Monster
by lumos-aeternum
Summary: Young, adventurous Remus Lupin lost everything the day of that near-fatal attack. Afterwards he learned the true nature of family and friends. Regardless, he will never look at the full moon with the same happy eyes. This is the tale of Remus Lupin, from the days of blissful youth until the end of the first war. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, the characters, or world.
1. Chapter 1: The Fight

"Come back here, you little monster!"

The cry of Anna Stenton, housemaid and Squib in the household, went unheeded. A young boy with dirty brown hair and a devilish grin ran past, slipping through her outstretched arms and out the side door into the yard, small hands clutching a pilfered pair of oven mittens. Laughing to himself, the boyishly chubby child flung them into a nearby bush and raced along to the stream behind their house.

He knelt at the water's edge and looked down into the cool, rippling surface. A dirty, joyous face peered back at him. He brought up a spilling double handful and washed his face off, managing to soak his shirt and the rocks about him in the process. The face came out of it a little cleaner, but his hair remained dishevelled. Try as they might, his parents could never get him to straighten it. "I like it that way," he would say, struggling out of their comb-filled grasps.

The elder Lupins, Gregorio and Stephania owned the great estate that they lived on. Gregorio's booming trade business had prospered, especially since his appointment to the Wizengamot. That recognition was a spectacular one for a foreign-born wizard. No foreign wizard or witch in the past century had been done the honour. Recent increase in magical goods had given fuel to his innovative transportation methods, and here they were, two of the most respected members of the community.

Mrs. Lupin had taken to great works of community development, and without having spent a day in the service of the Ministry, their family seemed ripe for political success. In small town pubs, it was often joked that their next appointment would be a hard-fought competition for the Minister's job between the Mr. and the Mrs. Lupin, if no one else. But none of this mattered to the child, Remus.

He had grown from a tiny, quiet infant into a noisy, troublesome child. Despite all assurances that he was passing through a phase, the parents worried over him and his natural curiosities. He would travel as far as their leash would carry him, and then enough further to cause them grief. Not that he bore them any ill will, no. He was simply a child at heart, free of all the concerns and worries that have built up around the adults of the world. If one cannot be young in youth, then when?

Now, he was staring into a stream of gradually flowing water, observing the tree boughs and leaves in a broken, rippled image. A shadow fell over his view, and he turned, startled. The sun sat directly behind the new person's face, and kneeling as he was, Remus could not tell who it was. A fistful of mud smacked heavily off the side of his face, slowly trickling down to fall in a splatter on his new pants.

"Igor!" he shouted, quasi-angrily. He leaned back, filling his hand with a thin cup-full of the sludge that had formed in that two-inch space at the river's edge while facing his opponent. With a whip, his hand arched forward, covering both of them in the unreasonable mess. The grass between had become dotted with specks of flying debris, like a pair of lines connecting the two persons. The ribbon extended from Remus' throw up the pants, shirt, and left cheek of Igor, his best friend.

The pair laughed at the mess and began a simple floor tumble-wrestling match. Remus was easily pinned by his larger friend, but managed to squirm his way out of it, and leap upon his opponent's back. After a few minutes, during which both had mashed in the mud stains and picked up a few new grass stains to boot, they lay quietly, breathing hard upon the ground. In the sky, a dozen geese flew by in an off-centred V shape. One of the younger, smaller geese had taken to annoying the fellow in front of it by swinging up at its wing tips on both sides alternately.

It was a beautiful afternoon, one of many to grace their neighbourhood in the last few weeks. Igor and Remus had been friends since they both had crawled, and were always including each other in their schemes and plans. An inseparable pair as this had never been seen in and about the country. Igor was three years his senior, but that did not matter to either of them.

Suddenly, Remus was lifted to his feet roughly, crying out in surprise. "Gotcha!" yelled, Anna, triumphantly. Remus was too winded to struggle, just yet. "And look what you've done to your new shirt. The missus is going to be very angry at you!"

"Mum won't care," he managed in a feeble reply.

Igor laughed where he lay. Remus shot him a look of bemused annoyance.

"Ok, maybe a little," he admitted.

"Too right she will," Anna responded, "Now, come along, we need to get you cleaned up. Your father has company tonight and we need you looking your best."

Anna continued to mutter angrily, with phrases such as "looking a disgrace" and "if you were my child, I'd" becoming audible at random intervals. Remus began the process of passive aggressive resistance, dragging behind so that his arm was in pain by the time they arrived. He wished, sometimes, that she would hurt him by accident and then she would be sacked. It never happened, though.

Never had the Lupins found such a successful nanny and housekeeper since Remus was little. He had had ten at last count. They never tended to stay too long, after he had begun to dig into them. Anna had now lasted a full year. It seemed she was here to stay. Remus both respected and disliked her for her resilience. It was still fun to torment her, regardless. Whether she hammed it up or no, it always made his day.

Coming the back way, Anna led Remus up the back stairwell to his mother's dressing room. She would be there, frilling up her dress and prepping her hair for the evening. In what they did, both his parents always had the best of appearances for the public. His father had always stressed it to him.

Often his father would take him out into the remote country regions to teach him a lesson. One time, it had been to a grain farm.

"Son," he had said, "your mind may be sharp and all your circumstances may have come with the perfect help at the perfect times, but without an image, the world will shoot down your very dreams. I have seen it a thousand times, from persons above me to persons below. Dozens of my greatest partners fell under a dishonourable image. If the public doesn't see strength and intelligence in your dress, you can forget it. You'll be dusted off of the floor like so much chaff."

Here he had pointed out to the grain mill down the hill. The chaff, left over on the threshing floor, was being brushed out the door to be carried away by the wistful winds of autumn. As well intentioned as his father was with these talks, it would be years before Remus understood what his father had and had not said back then.

They froze suddenly on the second floor landing. Two loud, angry voices rang through the hallways. His father's door lay open a few inches. Through it, Remus had a glimpse of his father's face, angrier than he had ever seen him, and the back of a hairy-headed man in a trim, fitting suit. The dishevelled head belied the sharpness of dress; this was no ordinary visitor.

A sharp, gruff voice floated over, "Think of what you are doing! No one insults me this way. You will regret it!"

"And you will remember that I am not running a small-time operation," his father's voice spoke, very harshly. "I do not deal under these terms, not with you, not with anyone."

Anna grabbed Remus's arm again and pulled him towards the stairs, but he resisted. She whispered, "Your father will want his privacy."

Remus continued to squirm in her hands. He wanted to see who was making his father so angry. It was unusual. He rarely saw his father show more than a diplomatic smile. What could this man have asked? Their tones were very fierce, but it was about business. It was always business when guests came by.

The sounds of their scuffle caught the attention of the two arguers. Remus saw a flash of cold, hungry eyes peer out from a mess of low bangs as the man turned away from Remus' father. He was frozen in an unconscious fear. Anna took advantage of this, and he felt himself dragged up the stairs. The pair of eyes seemed to follow him in the panelling of the stairwell wall and the banisters, and from outside the window.

He was quickly ushered into his mother's dressing room. She sat, whimsically patting an old dress with a feather boa she may have worn a few years before he was born, at the latest. The colours were of a frightening array and fashion only now beginning to return as a throwback to a not-so-forgotten era. She often took quiet moments to remind herself of old times this way, but only when she thought she was unobserved. Stephania never threw away anything. Her wardrobe filled the walls in two tiers of this dressing room and a couple smaller ones she would have a maid rifle through on a whim.

At the sound of the door opening, Stephania shoved the dress between the others on that rack, rumpling five of them in the process. She pretended to be hurriedly searching for a dress to wear. Her selection hung separate and ironed perfectly on an empty rack she kept by the doorway. Anna cleared her throat in introduction.

"Oh," Stephania started, "Anna, have you dressed little Remy for the -" her voice caught as she turned. "Why, Anna, what has happened to his new shirt?" The voice was not accusing; it retained a hint of amusement shrouded with a forced sternness.

"Well, little _Remy_?" Anna pressed, turning her embarrassed, accusing stare upon him.

Remus stood awkwardly looking between his mother and Anna. It was a dance they had played before. Each knew their role. Remus was up.

He put on his best puppy-dog face; it was an adorable face, if everyone didn't say so, and they did. "I was just walking outside," he began, "and I tripped in the mud."

"And young Master Igor?" Anna asked with a hint of triumph. "Did he also trip in the same mud?"

"Er, yeah," Remus answered without hesitation. "It was slippery out there."

"Wrestling in the mud again, Remy?" his mother asked, knowingly. "What did we say about that?"

"That I shouldn't wrestle in my finest clothes," Remus responded dryly, defeat prevalent in his voice.

"Yes," his mother continued, rolling through a regular lecture routine, "and what did you do?"

"Wrestled in my finest clothes."

"What are we going to do with you?" she asked the air, looking in the mirror at her powder table. A brush swished joyously through her hair, teasing and fluffing it. As though she had carefully deliberated on the facts, she turned so she was looking at her son's reflection. "You'll just have to help Anna and clean that mud off, without magic, young man!"

"Awww, mom! You know I could," he answered, "I've done it before."

"Yes," she chuckled, "but you're too young; you need schooling to control it." Seeing the look on his face, she continued, "Just one more year. I know hearing about Igor's last two years there has been unbearable, but you'll be there soon enough."

"But mom!"

"That's enough!" she said with finality. "Anna, see that he scrubs out the stains himself and then dry it. We need him looking sharp in an hour for dinner."

"Yes, mistress," Anna answered, "Come along, Master Remus."

The brush set itself down on the table, and the mirror leaned forward at her beckon, so she could see that the top of her hair was as it should be. Another footstep sounded in the small room, and she recognized her husband's breathing.

"Gregor," she began, "Our son has gone and messed up his – my dear!" She turned, having seen his face in the mirror. "You look angry. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing major, sweetums," he answered. "Just some nasty business I'm trying to lose."

"It's that Greyback, isn't it?" she said, quietly. "I told you he was trouble."

"I know, dear."

"I don't understand why you had to let him carry those last two shipments," she continued. "It was just calling for trouble. And you know what his name does to business. People dislike him."

"I know, dear."

"Then why-?"

"He was the only one who would," Gregorio answered gruffly. "Lupus Mercantile will sell and deliver anything – that's our motto. We can't suddenly change our policy because some strange folks are asking for – well, for unusual merchandise."

"Then what did he want, now? You paid him, didn't you? They shipped and delivered for us, case closed."

"Well, it's not that simple," he began. "Mr. Greyback has informed me of a few unfortunate incidents that occurred due to the nature of the contents, and wants recompense for the damages to property and … er … personnel."

"So?" she asked, "That sounds reasonable, if it really was a problem unforeseen."

"So," he added with a little more force, "It was in the original contract that the responsibility for the safety of shippers and shipping materials lay with him. He was not happy to let it go at that. He has a temper, that one."

"And now?"

"I said I would send my lawyers to speak with his lawyers and asked him to leave," Gregorio answered with a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad he's gone. It always unnerves me to be around that man."


	2. Chapter 2: Moonlit Excursion

Remus' eyes, brilliant brown balls amid a pool of milk white, snapped open. He blinked rapidly, his pupils overwhelmed with the dim light hovering in the air amid the thousands of visible dust flakes. The moon, a massive orb, swallowed the majority of his window space. It was full and unusually fashioned on the horizon. Remus could hardly remember having seen it this large, even in his wilderness camping trips.

He listened. The moon gave off no more sound than the rest of the household. His parents, tucked away in their loft, were sound sleepers, hardly waking for anything. Anna, however, was much more perceptive, and she had her room just beneath his. A creaking floorboard would be more than enough to wake her.

This predicament had never stopped him before, of course. Carefully sliding his covers off his prone form, Remus leaned over the edge of his bed and reached underneath. His hand found a familiar board, one of the eight that supported his mattress, and, having loosened it one day some time ago, brought it up.

The board, he had found, was the exact distance between his bed and the window seat. Leaning outward, he held the board precariously over the floor and laid it across the gap with precision. Smiling a devilish grin, Remus crept slowly across the newfound bridge, blessing the person who had decided to cushion the window seat. Neither of the ends moved or rattled with his shifting weight.

He paused once, halfway across, as he heard a sound coming from below. Had Anna woken up? No, she suddenly rolled over and was once more silent. He finished his crossing, and undid the window latch. The view from the third floor was spectacular, especially at sunset. The hillside adjacent would glow with the last drops of golden sunlight. Now, it was lit with a scattering of lamps and outdoor lights that gave little more than a vague definition to the hill.

Remus leapt across empty space, catching himself squarely in the chest on his target branch. Slightly winded, he swung his legs forward and dropped onto a lower branch. The oak tree was grand in its old age. It had stood on the grounds longer than the manor by many decades, but seemed to prosper still with its new neighbor.

Remus had adored the tree since as far back as he could remember. He had always found a way of climbing too high for Anna's grasp or comfort. The scolding he received had been worth the joy of reaching that highest branch repeatedly. He felt an indistinct joy here, neither from any success nor from the beautiful panoramic view. The place itself was special to him.

Tonight, however, he was descending, rather than ascending the tree. With the light from the moon bathing the tree base to pinnacle, Remus had no trouble making out the various familiar nooks and toeholds he had half-dug, half-discovered over the years. He rather liked the feeling of climbing, the subtle burn he felt in his shoulders and upper arms, the reach around that felt like a perpetual hug upon this granddaddy of all trees.

He took the last five feet at a jump, rolling out of the landing and setting off in a scamper across the wide backyard, towards the stream. The two homes, his and Igor's had no neighbors behind, only the stream and, above, the hilltop – a barren skullcap of rock they had found it extremely difficult to build upon. As powerful, important landowners, both had taken the effort to fence between their property and someone else's. It was a badge of honor rather than a necessity.

This fence only extended to the stream and did not cross the back end of the property. Remus sidled around the last board of the fence and streaked across his neighbor's yard. Luckily, Igor lived on the first floor and his parents were on the far end of the building. He rapped hard on the window. After a moment, he heard a thud as two feet hit the floor, and the approaching footsteps. A tousle-haired kid looked out of the opening window, a grin spreading across his face to echo his friend's own smile.

"Remus!" he exclaimed. "So, what's it to be tonight?"

"I was thinking," he began, "we could go to the scull and make fireworks over the town on the far end."

"Cool!" Igor responded. "What about the sneaking into the old mansion in the valley? Or go playing pranks on the Muggles!"

"Ooh, that sounds fun!" Remus said, "Remember the time we convinced that one girl that her toy was on fire?"

"Yes, that was great! She looked so confused when we handed it back safely. Haha!"

As they spoke, they naturally walked up the hill to the skull. The rocky outcroppings were easily passed and the duo found themselves on an upside-down bowl of solid rock, arching perfectly symmetrical to a point four meters above the edge of the cap. It was a broad enough base that there was no effort to ascend the slope.

As they reached the base of the skullcap, the moon had positioned itself behind the rock before them. Its upper crest and wings showed like long, silvery daggers on either side. The rock appeared black in contrast, the grey-white color of its surface shadowed by itself. A brilliant halo surrounded the hill, enchanting it in the eyes of the two children.

"Wow!" Igor exclaimed.

"Brilliant," Remus responded. "Let's go up!"

The two skipped up the hill and were soon engulfed in moonlight. It had a more powerful glow than it normally did. Often, it took on a false, dead light that illuminated the area without the details and laid everything under an uncertain sense of sadness it is hard to place. Tonight, the moon would have made a fair contest with the sun itself. The world was not completely lit, but what was illuminated had as sharp a contrast with that which was not as night and day.

The houses in the valley appeared in myriad shades of grey and white, pale lighting. The trees concealed many, but they, in turn, were then illuminated. Intricate wind patterns could be mapped rushing between the hills. The two mischievous friends just stared at the glorious clarity beneath their feet. With so much light, their pranks could be so much more elaborate, if that much more dangerous.

Remus's eyes glowed with anticipation. Igor leapt up on a rock suddenly and pointed at the sky. His finger was an extension of his elongated teenage limbs, angular and awkward pointing with an instant passion at something high above. His eyes reflected the searing white glow that pierced the heavens. Remus had just enough time to raise his eyes before they were frozen and blinded.

From the depths of space, traveling at hundreds of feet per second, a rock the size of a dining room table flew in towards the atmosphere. The heat enveloped the base of the rock's surface, searing the closest level to liquid and then tearing apart the pieces quickly. The pieces dissolved into dust and the remainder grew smaller and smaller as it plummeted. It bent with the force of its momentum on gravity and shot across the sharp divide between daylight and nightshade. It cut through clouds like through wisps of cream, leaving a harsh trail behind it.

With a tremendous crack, the meteorite collided with the surface of the rock beneath Igor's feet. It shattered explosively, lifting the young boy out across the surface of the skull. He flew headlong, screaming towards the jagged outcropping. Remus hardly felt the shards of the great boulder embedding themselves within his face and arms. He saw only his friend's body, tumbling through the air mercilessly. He had no time to voice a cry.

As suddenly as he began his arc through the air, Igor stopped. He hung, petrified and unmoving mere centimeters off the surface of a painful death. Remus's hand was stretched out intuitively in a desperate gesture of grasp. In amazement, Remus realized what he did and dropped his friend. Igor cried in pain.

"Igor!" Remus cried. "Are you alright?"

A slight groan arose from the billowing dust enveloping the western edge of the hilltop. The moonlight diverted and dodged about, refusing to reveal the boy and rocky fragments encased within the granular cloud. The sky had returned, effortlessly, to the ageless civility and stillness of moments before. The transient traveler had left no lasting mark on its path.

A swift breeze, funneling between the taller hills on either side, swept up the side of the hill and caught the hanging dust. The dust peeled away as though shredded by a pair of clawed fists. As the air cleared, a form appeared at the edge of the skull, prone and unmoving. Remus ran to his friend, fearing the worst. He could see the left arm was hanging limp in an unusual direction; Igor's face was buried in the dirt.

Remus crouched softly beside his friend, carefully rotating the rigid shoulder blades to see the hidden face. The body felt unusually heavy and resistant, as though something other than its own weight was preventing Remus from turning him face up. With a final heave, Remus flipped Igor over completely, lifting a new, thin cloud of fallen dust back into the air.

Igor jumped up and shouted, causing Remus to leap backwards painfully on his rear end. They both broke out into laughter. Igor was up and ran quickly to the broken stone he had stood on. "Cool!" he called over to his still-stunned friend.

"You alright, Igor?" he asked, trying to disguise his momentary panic. "You flew quite a way there."

"What? Me?" Igor asked, incredulous. "I'm great. That was excellent! Not sure how I missed the rocks, but I'm fine!" He shook his head with a light laugh.

Remus walked over, fear gone, and studied the tiny crater. "Not much to see now," he said. "The falling star seems to have broken up." He picked up a spare piece, charred along one edge and sheered smooth all around, sticking it into his pocket. It felt heavy in his pocket, a slight imbalance from the usual.

Igor leapt again, standing on the remains of the rock, in defiance of the skies and of further falling bodies. Remus, still a little shaken, chuckled as he stepped back away from the statuesque Igor. Igor shouted, shaking his raised fist towards the starry heavens, "Is that all you've got?" Silence fell.

With no response, Igor hopped down mockingly mimicking the look of annoyance on Remus's face as he said, "Guess so."

Remus walked towards the edge of the hilltop facing the town, and Igor ran up beside him. Moving quickly, Remus seized a thin willow stick from the back pocket of his friend and pointed it skyward. It burst with an enormous flash of fire, the tip glowing and emitting a heaven-bound firework, an answer to the sky's attack upon the earth. A green and yellow orb of sparks lit the sky and dimmed.

Igor snatched at the wand, shoving his younger friend aside, "My turn!" His firework, -more complicated and skillful with experience - resembled a kite with tail caught in a high and powerful gale. It was torn to shreds in a moment, reminding the pair that it had not been a kite at all, but simply the image in crystals of fading light.

The kids went on in this way for an hour, calling out in amusement at their antics. The use of a wand by either, especially young Remus, was an offense against the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. Their parents had lectured them diligently on the seriousness of this offense. It was fun.

As they began to bore, to grow tired of this simple game, and thoughts of descending to the town below, a furious bellow caught their attention. A house, a prominent and large dwelling close to this end of the valley, had caught fire. It basked the length of the valley in a edifying light, both hard and variable, as though testing the walls and trees for weak points in an unrecognized pattern.

The noise was the sound of cries for help and the enveloping ripple of reactive shouts. The news was passing from one end of this small valley to the other in moments. Lights from all ends blinked on where they had been lifeless – as eyes suddenly observing the scene from every point of view. It was a worrisome thing, this fire, as the homes were so closely placed and mainly old in construction. The length of the valley could burn in a few hours.

Such was the remoteness and the antiquity of the town that no fire squad had been formed. The town would put the fire out with buckets from the several wells scattered throughout town. Igor stared, watching the spectacle unfold. Men, women, and children – all half dressed and showing a lack of sleep with sluggish movements and disorganization – rushed toward the house with buckets to help combat the blaze.

Men rushed up with large hammers and began to wreck up the supporting walls of the wing that had caught fire. A collapsed building would have less reach than one level and stretched out towards its neighbors. A crew began to thrust buckets along a line to the front, and a losing battle was begun. The buckets full had no visible impact – only shifting the direction of the fire to drier, larger sections of the roof and walls.

Ever as they struggled, Remus saw the evil face of fire, laughing at the un-amused glance of the pair who had moments before taken such joy in its brother. It gathered matter before it and milked it, succulently devouring and moving on. This all passed in an endless moment. Remus woke as from a trance – finally seeing what he had watched with new eyes. Igor was stuck, frozen, wand lowered from the last firework, in shock. Remus realized he too had stood as a diver ready to leap but uncertain if the water were beneath him.

Without a word, he reached over, took the wand from his friend's hand, and flew down the hillside, tumbling and cutting himself on rocks and trees that appeared in his path moments too late to avoid them in his headlong rush. He found himself coming up behind the house, where no one had yet gathered. The path between the houses was impassible and the smoke and fire made the trip around more dangerous yet.

The home was not yet devoured, and no other had yet caught fire. The front-left section had collapsed in a combined effort of the hammer-men and the atrophying power of the fire's presence. Remus realized what he intended as he raised his arm, and not knowing how, still willed the power to stop this blaze.

He stood hidden, no one could see him from where he stood, and he could be gone long before the town realized the fire had ended. All he needed was to stop it. With all the force of mind he could muster, he pictured a wave of water extending from wand-tip to the house and waited.

The sounds of the cackling fire and of the terrified screams and cries of the unfamiliar villagers fell away. His vision faded to black, and he saw but that image in his mind – focusing on a power he had never used. In addition, as he felt himself fully deaf and blind it happened.

An erupting force jolted his small arm with sudden recoil. He was not sure whether his sight and hearing returned or if his mental image were suddenly made so real. As the fire fled, devoured by a new power, a watery foe, he began to hear cries of surprise and expectant hope over those of despair and pain. His hand and arm were sore by the end of it, and he sank to his knees when he released the spell.

This was it. He could not get up. He would be found out. What had seemed such a remote and unlikely occurrence – a tribunal levying punishment at the Ministry of Magic – now felt all too real and present. As despair fell upon his heart, he felt an arm grasp him around the middle and pull him up. Looking about, he saw the awe-struck eyes of Igor, and submitted to those hands' call.

Somehow, they made it to the hilltop. The sounds of the villagers were distant and rejoicing. They could not learn how the fire had died, but were only happy it had. Igor had taken his wand back but said nothing else. He could not tell the wreck he must look – covered in dust and rock pellets from the meteor and smelling of ashen smoke from the fire. Together they crossed the skull and quietly descended to the stream's edge.

Igor chanced a slight laugh and Remus took it up. Such a night neither had envisioned. Remus – tired and strained as he felt – was glad they had come. He felt an easy sense of happiness unfamiliar in its glorious pride. Waving to Igor, he hopped the river stones to his own yard as his friend departed toward his first story window.

They would have a good laugh over it all in the morning. For now, he needed some well-earned rest.


	3. Chapter 3: Wound of the Soul

For the past few billion years, it has floated above, taking massive hits and protecting the Earth from many devastating collisions. In exchange, the Earth has paid a terrible but bountiful price. The tides drawn by the powerful force of that orbiting body, tearing apart the edges of continents and replenishing the water and sediments along the coastal fronts, never slow nor wane in their cyclical efforts. They are eternal so long as the sea fronts the land and the moon shines.

Scientists and astronomers have long studied the forces and facets of this closest of celestial orbs. Even longer, men and women have told stories and passed on tales of fancy mixed with hidden truths about the occurrences surrounding the unexplained phases of the moon. The reactions of animals, for one, were said to be distinct when the moon was full. Others claimed to see an animal-like mania overtake certain community members at this same time.

Whatever the circumstances, humankind has long felt a strange kinship with the wilderness associated with the moon. It dares betray its stellar cousins, changing appearance and position with rapidity and style. It basks large and bright on mid-autumn evenings as though a great, yellow-orange cat's eye. The moon has had much greater influence than its presence could naturally be thought. Sometimes, it can change a person's life forever.

~ * ~ *

Remus's steps carried him easily across the moonlit lawn. An empty calm had fallen, a strange contrast to the smoke, ash, and fire of the burned building in the adjacent valley. No echo of sound or sight reached this quiet nook in the hillside. Even Igor's lawn felt a thousand miles away – his friend's footsteps had disappeared immediately.

He arrived at the old tree, lovingly touching the bark as one holds a pet, and began to reach for the lowest branch. Something stayed his hand. His left remained firmly planted upon the surface – a gruff set of bumps and crevices – and his right hung unnaturally still, frozen between a lowered and raised position. Remus held there for a moment. His ears felt more acute and his eyesight dimmed slightly in compensation.

Not knowing why, Remus turned around. His legs slowly pivoted in place, twisting the upper body at a bent, uncontrolled angle. A figure stood watching him from the back end of the lot. How long it had stood there, he could never be sure. It seemed to heave with unnecessary breaths and just watched him. Shrouded by a thick veil of night's cloak, it gave no particular sign of purpose or reason.

A deep, guttural growl erupted from the lot's end, harmonizing subtly with the percussive crickets and hunting owls Remus could suddenly hear. Perhaps it was all one sound. Although not particularly threatening or loud, the deep bass note seemed to catch and vibrate the earth beneath his feet.

"Igor?" Remus asked, voice quavering.

A clawed foot emerged from the shadow and stood profoundly still within the soft light from the moon. The brown fur of this unusual appendage was coarse – almost sharp – compared to any animal Remus knew. The claw dug into the drought-parched earth, crunching bits of gravel in an atypically loud fashion.

Remus backed up suddenly, desperate to distance himself from whatever he was facing. Unfortunately, he was already up against the tree trunk and succeeded in only smacking his back painfully. His frantic motion startled the beast and it leapt forward fully into the light.

It was a werewolf. Remus recognized it from the pictures in his childhood stories – cautionary tales meant to terrify young wizards and witches into extra care. The angular ears and piercing, squinting eyes of fiery orange were focused fully upon Remus' form. He saw that the fur coat was of that same harsh shock as the leg had been. The lanky limbs were as powerful as those of an ox. The edges of the mouth were the most terrifying, however. In the deep creases, Remus could see an animal hunger, a hunger that was meant for him.

Its slow manner suggested that of a confident swagger. Both he and the creature knew he had no chance of escape. It could see, further, that the terror in his eyes prevented his mouth from screams that would have come far too late. 'It feels,' thought some observant place in Remus's mind, 'more like a dance than an attack'. The werewolf paced around him, sniffing and smirking at him. Its eyes darted head-to-toe along Remus's body. Remus saw, as it crossed – low to the ground – before him, that the creature's back was a dirty grey colour, sharply contrasting the brown-hazel of the rest of its form.

Had anyone seen this encounter, things might have gone differently. An unholy racket could have scared the creature away. Its private, personal attention to this bit of meat before it might have shamed it into flight. These thoughts mirror those minute hopes Remus experienced and instantly detested as false and pointless as he waited for the inevitable.

In an eerie manner, the creature ventured gradually closer, beginning to brush Remus with the surprisingly bendable hair. A shiver flew up his spine every time he felt that intimate touch and he shrunk from it. His very apparent repulsion seemed to excite the beast, and it came closer. 'What monstrous beast is this,' thought Remus, 'that unknowingly, unthinkingly acts with such terrible confidence and wickedness?'

As the beast rubbed particularly close in one pass, Remus could not stand still further. He sprang away from the tree shade, hurriedly fighting for every inch of distance towards the back door, toward safety. The werewolf had waited for this moment and leapt upon him, toppling him to the ground. He had just begun to realize the pain in his knees and hands from falling, when the monster ripped into his back, tearing away the flesh to expose his insides to the sole, helpless observer, the moon. He released a moan of pain, experiencing such a terrible violation of his flesh.

The beast seemed to lick this up, its clawed hands finishing with their attack, and the mouth latching down upon his left arm. Remus could feel the snorting, fire-filled breath sear his face and his own sweat mingle with the blood released all over. What was left of his shirt absorbed blood until it had reached a heavy pink colour. As the werewolf's fangs pierced his flesh, he felt a terrible liquid fill the spot of the injury, clotting the blood quickly, and moving inward along the passages that gave him life, a silent betrayal within his veins.

He began to shudder uncontrollably beneath the frustrated werewolf – its attempts to pin him down were thwarted by the unpredictable shakes. After an eternity of raking claws and biting fangs, the creature lay off him. He could not see it from his position – face down into the dirt-and-blood mud-mixture – but knew from the quietness and the receding feeling of the shadow that it was backing away from him as a sordid exclamation point to its attack. It was enjoying the appearance, from different angles, of its handiwork.

Remus sensed a lightening all about him as the beast finally and fully left the premises. It was as though the world had held its breath and now – now that the deed was done – it dared exhale again. The feeling that had flooded his veins he felt everywhere. It was a part of him – an inseparable horror – and he could never feel the same again. Anger filled him so harshly that his own mind stared in terror at his silent wish for death and destruction to befall everyone around him. He wanted to take back what was gone or lose it all in an instant.

The initial anger subsided as he felt his strength ebbing with the blood from his back and he began to sob. He cried loudly and painfully. His cries echoed for a mile around in a crushed tribute to the power of the beast. He had little voice left when his parents and Anna found him moments later. That was how his parents found him, naked from the savagery of the claws, half-dead from blood loss, and taken from them in a way that few parents let themselves conceive of much less experience. His voice choked up as they turned him over. His face was covered with tear and blood-stained dirt, and he had only the remaining strength to mutter, "Igor…" as he collapsed and remained unconscious.

As Anna carried him upstairs and summoned St. Mungo's, his parents – important socialites and industrialists – stared at each other in full understanding. He was doomed to the hellish life of an outcast, of the werewolf he had now become.

Far above, the moon stared on, watching the events unfold in this shattered household, just as it watched the owners of a burnt house sweep away the first ashes from the dilapidated structure, uncertain of their future. It continued its trek westward, crossing the Atlantic and on to the Americas. Unfeeling and guided by a gravitational drag that one day, inevitably, would bring it home to its mother planet, the moon continued its silent voyage through the skies.


	4. Chapter 4: The Fight Within

The following four weeks were a blur of Healer visits, expert consultations, and the loud tears of Mrs. Lupin. After the initial two weeks in St. Mungo's, Remus was deemed safe to return home. It was standard policy. The hospital did not hold patients of an attack longer than two weeks unless there was absolute need.

From there, the family was forced to call in specialist Healers to their house for care. There was, of course, the extra expense for the circumstance, painfully noticeable at the bottom of the bills under Lycanthropic Surcharge. The parents paid. They paid without thought. It was necessary, they said to themselves. Remus needed care; he needed healing.

As Mrs. Lupin exerted her energies to healing his broken body and tenderly sitting at his bedside, Mr. Lupin took other, more active steps. He had an underground bunker prepared in their backyard. It was hidden with much magical concealment. His son needed a safe place for his once-a-month transformations. Further, he worked to quell the rumors of the attack, rumors furthered by malicious comments from business associates who felt he had slighted them in the past.

The galleons fell through their fingers quickly, but they had plenty, they would say. However, that was not completely true. They had invested most of their wealth in the business. With even the hint of an association with a werewolf, customers dropped off appreciably. Some of their best and oldest customers had to make excuses.

"But why now, Silas?" Gregorio asked. "Didn't our last deliveries suit your needs perfectly?"

"Yes, yes, Greg," the man responded. "It's just the climate. You know how politically minded everyone gets. They can't see you as the great businessman you are with rumors rolling around."

"What rumors are you referring to?" Gregorio said curtly.

"Oh," said Silas, visibly uncomfortable now. "You…but what does it matter? It's them, Greg, it's everyone. It's the way of the world. And you know how things are. If I buy and they don't like it, they won't buy my products in the future. And then how will I pay for my daughter's schooling? You know that, Greg. I'm sorry. If I could do something, I would."

That was how it always was. Some stuck with him. Those who did were in so specialized a market that no one could find their products elsewhere or a niche market bought from them. At the month's end, it began to sap Gregorio of his energy. His normally rosy and excited expression had given way to a graver, lined face. His actions were lethargic and many matters he formally would have seized with a forceful attentiveness he now let lie.

It was two days prior to the full moon that the Healers spoke fully about the long-term condition. Until this time, they had mostly discussed how to improve Remus' immediate condition, and Stephania had grown tired of their evasiveness.

"Healer Barden," she asked, "is there nothing else we can do?"

"He seems to be nearly well now," Barden pronounced quickly, his mouth barely seeming to move.

"I mean," she went on, "for his condition. Is there nothing we can do to make him whole again?"

"He is, by and large, whole now," said the Healer.

"What I mean to say," Stephania continued, siphoning out a touch of anger to give her words more strength, "is that we cannot prevent his turning into a werewolf, can we?"

Gregorio stiffened. He had sat quietly by, listening vaguely to everything the Healer said, hearing but not understanding. The use of the word, never uttered since that dreadful day within their household, shocked him into attentiveness. Neither of his companions noticed his change.

"Oh," said the Healer, a little discomfited by the outright question. "As to that, magical Healing has only come so far in that field. Very few enter into that line of research, and their success is limited."

"What about Damocles?" said a voice from the doorway. It was Miss Hertle, the Healer trainee. "Isn't he developing a potion to control the state?"

"Yes, yes," said Barden dismissively. Turning back to Remus' parents, he said confidingly, "Damocles hopes to have the potion finished in a few years, but most of us believe he is out of his mind. His methods, I must say, are not very conventional."

"Sometimes it takes a convention-breaker to discover something new," the trainee rebuked, her words tumbling out in the un-stylized repetition of something she had read.

Barden ignored this last comment, speaking directly to the Lupins. "I'm afraid to say, at the present time, there is no cure for lycanthropy while your son is alive…"

"Well, that's not-" began Miss Hertle, but stopped at the glare from her superior. She lowered her head.

"It's not what?" Gregorio said, abruptly, loudly. No one had realized he was so attentive. "Not true?"

Miss Hertle's eyes were glued to the floor. Barden glared at her harder for a moment. He calmed himself slightly and, returning his gaze to the pair before him, he answered, "There is nothing we can do, I'm sorry."

"But?" Stephania interjected.

Barden shook his head. Stephania looked at the girl, pleadingly, but Miss Hertle's head was still down.

Gregorio looked the Healer in the eye and demanded of him, "What was she going to say?"

"Nothing. It was not an appropriate comment."

"Do not hide anything. If there is even a chance, I want to know it."

"It is not a chance," the Healer answered, coldly. "She's used to answering academically. Practicality is something you learn on the job."

"Look," Gregorio said sternly. "If you don't tell me, I will find out. Just tell us. We are paying you, now earn your galleons."

At the mention of money, the Healer looked offended, but nodded nonetheless. "Miss Hertle, continue where you were."

"But, Healer Barden!"

"They have asked," he said, softly. "Answer."

She looked flustered, embarrassed, as though the failed attempt of her superior to evade the question had brought into sharp relief what she had been about to say. Her face ran through several different shades between pink and crimson before she spoke.

"I…I was just saying that…that it's not true that a living person can't lose lycanthropy," she began hesitantly, but rushed through to get it out of the way.

"Of the little research that has been done, Pelonius was the most renowned. He explored not only the physical and magical elements of the affliction, but also the spiritual," the girl continued, eyes glowing with an adoring excitement. "He discovered there is a link between a werewolf and its victims. For instance, if one of its victims were to die, the attacking werewolf would show confusion and suddenly become more vicious in its attempts to attack.

"Pelonius was able to conclude that the souls of the two were somehow linked by the affliction. This has been supported by one other fact. When a werewolf, in human or wolf form, is given the Dementor's Kiss, he or she will no longer transform on the full moon. So, you see," she concluded, red in the face once more, "the victims of the Kiss are alive but lose their lycanthropy…"

The silence was deafening. The Lupins were shocked, Miss Hertle looked down again in shame, and Barden waited for the news to sink in. It was always a painful moment for the patients and their families. He would rather it had been handled more carefully, but Miss Hertle needed to learn this lesson.

A few minutes passed. Mrs. Lupin suppressed sobs with effort. Mr. Lupin's face shifted from frustration to anger and back in periodic bursts. The other pair held still, waiting and watching. A cough sounded.

"I…I guess that's some good news," a weak voice whispered.

Everyone turned. Remus, looking pale as usual, had a courageous half-grin on his face. The mood changed perceptively. Stephania gave a cry and rushed over to hug her boy. Gregorio chuckled slightly. The Healers relaxed a little, relieved that the silence had broken. With a jerk of the head, Barden signaled Miss Hertle to follow him out into the hall. He had a few things to remind her. She followed resignedly.

Remus felt relieved to see his parents with smiles on their faces. His physical pain had been nothing to the pain of realizing that he had caused their grief. For days, it had tugged at his insides. He had remained ill a few days longer, at least, from this constant struggle. One part of him knew that it was not his fault; another declared that it was. If he had stayed at home in bed, like a good boy, he would not be here. His parents would have been spared all of this.

The first day he was conscious had been the worst. In these familiar surroundings, he had felt a surreal sense of displacement. From his window, in the morning light, he could see a few houses off to the side of the hill, miles away; these edifices, welcomers of day for him usually, now felt like stony judges. The people in these houses were living their normal lives. They laughed and played, but not him.

He could picture his mud fight with Igor just there, near the water. He had not seen Igor since…since it happened. Every time he thought of something else, everything came tumbling back to him. He would try to concentrate on a story and would feel how childish it seemed after what had happened. Remus would wonder what they would have for dinner and thoughts of his bone-chilling taste for bloodier meat would appear. It had taken over his life.

Mum and Dad had heard from their neighbors what he had done that night. Igor had confessed it all quickly when he heard the news. They had no words of reproach, only a sinking sadness that weighed heavier than a thousand lectures. Mum said she couldn't possibly blame him for it. That made him feel all the worse for it. Dad told him to be strong, and said he was proud of how he was handling it. Like an icy pick, these idle assurances and remarks fell, burrowing deep within his mangled flesh.

'A caring family is as bad as an hundred werewolves,' he thought at night, the pain and confusion creating a dire insomnia. He was confused all the time. 'Why?' he would ask the ceiling with his unblinking eyes, 'Why did this come to me? Boys across the country were acting more foolishly and more often. Igor was there with everything I did, and I am punished. For what?'

His heart burned with anger at everything. He wanted to use his magic to wash away all traces of this. If he could destroy the werewolf, the house, and himself, it would be wiped away. It would never have happened, right? It was at that moment that he would suddenly feel sorry for that werewolf. He or she could hardly control the monster within, right? It was an accident. That made it the more painful. He had no one to blame. It was all perfectly understandable – thus, impossible to comprehend.

He hated the Healers, sometimes. They were recovering him to health, but for what? He would be strong and well just in time to hurt someone else. It was a fruitless effort, wasn't it? He felt singled out and despised the attention he had brought to himself. It was such a simple thing, a one-moment mistake that evening, waking and going out. Look what it had wrought.

As his body grew stronger, his mind grew darker. Every moment drew him closer to the first full moon. It was time itself that had become his enemy. All his life, he began to see, he would be counting down the hours, the moments, to the full moon with horror. There was to be no take-back. He was incurable. He was doomed to damnation on earth, and all for being a kid.

His darkest hours were spent alternating between anger at his own pain and future and the cold fist of realization – the realization of what he had brought to those around him. As the weeks passed, he began to wonder if this feeling of continual horror would ever fade. The concept of never-ending grief only brought him more pain.

These same circles of thought and reproach had looped around in his mind for days. In the middle of one particularly bleak patch, he heard the Healer trainee's comment about the Kiss. The irony was hard and strong. The only living relief would deprive him of all that made him who he was, all thought and concern obliterated. Yet, as horrifying as that would seem, to be without thought, without memory would be a relief, a respite.

At that moment, the joke formed in his mind. He saw the long, drawn faces of his parents, and spoke. Their smiles warmed him. Remus could see the shadows of pain flick to the sides and out of view. His parents had always known how to put on a show when they needed to.

It gave him some hope, though, seeing them actually smile. Whether feigned or not, it made him consider the possibility that they would be able to carry on. The affliction was here and it was irreversible, but he would not face it alone – neither would his family. He was there for them as much as they were for him. For the moment, the three just smiled and cried tender tears.


	5. Chapter 5: Safe Haven

A year had passed in a blur, and now his greatest childhood dream was finally realized. With hundreds of trunks, cages, and gleeful young faces abounding, the students of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry boarded the blood-scarlet train from King's Cross. He would learn fantastic magic, see the moving staircases, and meet people from all corners of the country. Why, then, did he feel his presence there was a curse rather than a boon?

For one, his mum was ill. Remus knew it was caused by worrying for him. She had been easily stricken with disease since… In addition, he was scared of himself. He had not been around so many people in his whole life. What if he was found out? What if he hurt someone? The Headmaster, the famous and powerful Albus Dumbledore, had taken pity on his situation and assured his parents that matters would be taken in hand. Remus had no idea what that meant. It did not put him at ease, either.

Lastly, but most painfully, Igor's parents had withdrawn him from Hogwarts this year. He was going to Durmstrang – somewhere in Eastern Europe. They wouldn't say why, but everyone knew. Remus could still see the look of sadness in his old friend's eyes, as they parted last. He did not know when they would meet again. Over the fall, Igor's family would move.

"Still," his father had insisted, "you will meet many fine young friends at Hogwarts." His father's eyes had glazed over in a peculiar way, remembering a better time, perhaps, as he said it. He hadn't seen his father that relaxed in a long time.

Gregorio's business had sunk. He was forced to sellout to a competitor who formerly would not have dared as much to say an unkind word to him. The smirk on that strange man's face was a bold statement of how far down Gregorio had fallen. Remus had watched through the banisters at the stair's landing as the executives shook hands and parted ways.

Gregorio was staying on to manage the local branch of the merged delivery firm. It was as much a slap in the face as any he had ever received in his life. However, he took it. With Remus' Healer bills and the mortgage to think about, what choice did he have? Remus tugged at his threadbare sleeves on his too-short shirt as he stepped off the platform onto the train. He did not mind the shoddy clothing or school supplies he had to bring. They were just more reminders to him.

With that thought, the most serious-minded first year aboard sought out a compartment. The first dozen he passed were packed or nearly so, full of giggling girls, back-clapping young men, and tight-knit cliques from previous years. Further along, he found less filled compartments where tentative first-years rolled the dice to see who they might make first acquaintances with. Remus took his seat in a compartment with only one other occupant.

He was a small, scrawny sort of boy, very nervous and watchful. Remus, hopeful that he could make a good first impression, said hello as he lifted his bag into the rack above. It was an awkward height, and he struggled with the weight and angling of the bag. The other boy did not say anything, simply watched - as with curiosity – while Remus worked.

Pushing with all his might, Remus could not get it to slide into place. Something shifted inside the bag. His balance was slipping when another hand came upon his left and, together; they made it settle atop the rack. Turning, he said, "Thanks," expecting to see the small boy beside him. Instead, a laughing boy with jet black, disheveled hair answered him, "No problem at all."

That was his first impression of James Potter. He was the sort of bloke you couldn't help but like from the get-go. James was openly friendly and helpful. He also had a wicked sense of humor and a mischievous streak that was only matched in his near doppelganger, Sirius Black. This boy had followed James into the compartment.

They had evidently met moments before as each had parted from their families. There was something mentioned regarding a trolley mysteriously barreling through a crowd of older students; but through the pair's laughter, Remus could not make out what exactly had happened. The other boy, the quiet one seated before Remus arrived, finally spoke up – with some prodding. His name was Peter Pettigrew.

The four of them began to chat amicably and loudly. Another pair entered the compartment, sitting by the window. One was a dark haired, shabbily dressed boy. He was pale and had his attention completely captivated by the girl next to him. She was nervous, red-haired, and upset. They spoke in broken, awkward conversation. The boy was trying to console her about something unspoken.

The boy suddenly said, "You'd better be in Slytherin."

James's head whipped around. "Slytherin?" he asked, malice in his young voice. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Sirius replied with a stony face, "My whole family have been in Slytherin."

James replied, "Blimey, and I thought you seemed all right!"

They both grinned at their little joke.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition," Sirius continued. "Where are you headed, if you've got the choice?"

James stood and raised his arm in a triumphant gesture. "Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Like my dad."

A soft snort came from the new boy. Everyone turned his direction.

James lowered his arm, slowly. It hung at an odd, near-aggressive angle from his body as he said indignantly, "Got a problem with that?"

"No," said the new boy through a sneer. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy –"

Sirius jumped in. "Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?"

James, Sirius, and the so-far-silent Peter all laughed.

The young girl, visibly upset, grabbed the young boy's arm. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."***

"Oooooo…" crooned James and Sirius in a mock-up of her voice. James nearly tripped Severus on the way out.

Remus frowned slightly after the two left. He did not know what he had expected, though. James, Sirius, and Peter were still laughing openly and yelling a few taunts at the receding form of Severus. Everything had a darker side. That he had seen – even in his short time in life. Their kindness and open acceptance of him, a Gryffindor hopeful, was marred by the blatant and immediate dislike of this Severus boy. That boy had not given them great reason to like him, but that was not an excuse.

He felt a swell of pity for the girl. She seemed upset to begin with and the confrontation had her in tears. Remus glanced at Sirius. He had instigated it. 'But then,' thought Remus, 'how was I any better? I could have stopped them. I could have said something.'

This thought troubled him greatly. The reason he had not said anything was the same as the reason why he would not say something now. After all he had been through, the pain, the heartache, and the collapse of everything he had known, he hungered for this sort of contact. He needed them – anyone – to be his friend unconditionally. These three may not be perfect, but they had come to him with no reservations.

With a sad smile, Remus rejoined their conversation – now on to another topic: the professors.

"I heard Slughorn is brilliant! He has this club for the best of the best!" James was saying.

"Oh, you'll be a shoe-in for that!" Sirius responded.

Peter just beamed at them.

"What's this club like?" Remus asked. "What do they do?"

"He gets the club together and they talk about things," James said offhandedly. "Sometimes, they say, he brings in some of his old students. My uncle told me they once had John Tragvisen come." At Peter's blank look, he added, "He used to play for England."

Sirius' eyes were alight. "Best all-time Beater he was! They say he cracked more heads than Ungolt the Terrible Troll."

"Ungolt was just a make-believe story to scare kids," Remus broke in. "But I did hear that Tragvisen was once able to hit a Galleon on the face from a mile away with his mighty bat."

This train of argument continued with boasts of the old Quidditch hero's abilities soaring to more incredible heights, as the landscape rushed by and the afternoon flew on. James, at a sudden distraction in the form of the Food Trolley, bought them all a large pile of sweets. Sirius acquiesced only grudgingly. "Well, only if I buy next time." Neither Remus nor Peter said anything. Remus felt embarrassed to accept anything. It brought another pang of regret to his heart, but he thanked James and ate his Cauldron Cakes.

It had happened. Remus' previous doubts had fled. He was happy. Sharing his dorm were the three he had met on the train. James and Sirius were to his left and Peter was off to his right. With a lighter heart, he rummaged through his trunk. With a flourish he revealed his great poster. _The Legends of Quidditch_, it read. The greatest Quidditch players of all time were magically animated and moving around the poster, slamming Bludgers at the viewer, swooping and whirling to catch Snitches and pass around the Quaffle.

Remus stood for a moment and marveled at them at arm's length. Then, with James' help, he positioned it between their beds. Sirius and James were impressed with the quality of the poster. It was an expensive souvenir Remus' father had bought him when they visited the Quidditch Hall of Fame in Zurich. It was only two years ago, but to Remus it seemed a lifetime.

Sirius and James left the dorm, determined to cause some bit of first-night mischief in the common room before settling down for the night. Peter and Remus promised to follow shortly. After the other two had gone, Remus rifled through his trunk for a picture of his parents to set at his bedside. As he stood up with the frame in hand, he saw Peter sitting in deep thought on his own bed.

"What's wrong, Peter?" Remus asked.

"Nothing," replied Peter.

"Oh, ok," Remus said, nonplussed. "I'm going to go see what those two are up to."

"I don't know if I should have been put in Gryffindor," Peter stated suddenly, just as Remus reached the doorway.

With a hand pressed casually against the jam, Remus said, "Of course you should. The Sorting Hat put you here, didn't it?"

"Yes," Peter said, a little nervous and worried. "But I told it to. I said I wanted to be Gryffindor."

"Then what's the problem?" Remus asked, walking to sit on his own bed across from Peter.

"Well," Peter replied, "When it spoke in my head, the Hat said I should be Slytherin."

"But you chose Gryffindor," Remus spoke slowly.

"Yes."

"Well, maybe you could have done well in either," Remus mused aloud. "The Hat is supposed to put you where you belong, right?"

"That's what they said," Peter answered, "But…"

"You belong, Peter," Remus said, kindly. "We all have our worries and doubts. You're in Gryffindor. We all are."

"I guess so," said Peter, still not completely convinced.

"Don't worry about it," Remus said, "I'm sure you'll do Gryffindor proud."

With that, Remus patted his friend on the shoulder and walked back out of the dorm. In the stairwell, he let out a sigh, lost in thought. Passing one of the thin windows, he felt the silvery light of the half-moon fall across his face. He paused for a moment, his right half bathed in the glow, his left in the shadows. Then he hurried down the stairs to catch up with Sirius and James. It had been an incredible day.

*** Section proceeding this mark is a mixture of quotation and paraphrase from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ by JKR, _The Prince's Tale_


	6. Chapter 6: Torch in the Darkness

"Miss Evans?" a slow, jolly voice asked.

"The Third Principle of Potion Making states that _the potion maker must gather all ingredients necessary for the preparation of a single potion of a like type in a like manner_. That is to say, if you gather two species of vegetation native to swamps of Bulgaria, you could not gather one with Morgana's Method and another with Terranta's Technique," Lily answered.

"Quite correct," said Slughorn. He was beaming at her. In the first several classes alone, she had proved herself far above the class average. She not only demonstrated a great understanding of the topics discussed but put extra efforts into the preparation of each step of the potion-making – simple though it may be at the time. On her second lesson, in fact, she had changed an ingredient amount ever so slightly from the prescribed amount. The difference was astounding.

Slughorn had never seen a student take such initiative from such an early period, at least not so successfully. He had not asked, but could tell it was a deliberate action. Every other motion was from the book verbatim. A single flick of the wrist had been the difference. Slughorn was accustomed to a range of abilities from the start. He could already tell the slow-learners, the gifted lazy, the hardworking, and the brilliant apart. Having taught at Hogwarts for so long, it came naturally enough.

Severus gave her a smile from the Slytherin side of the room. Lily smiled back. He too had shown a great interest in the subject. His natural ability was not as complete as hers was, but his heart was in the effort, all the same.

'Those four,' he thought, 'they are another story.' As he spoke about the proper procedure to extract the dried venom remnants from a snake fang, he glanced over at the four new Gryffindor boys. He had seen many tight classes of students come and go, but never had a complete dormitory of boys or girls bonded as quickly as these had.

They caused minor bits of trouble whenever his back had turned. They constantly found something to amuse them. It was just difficult to catch them at anything. Remus was very studious, he answered nearly as often as Lily. It was a shame that his father's business had done so poorly of late. Peter was quiet and enjoyed snickering at everything they did. James and Sirius were the instigators. Mischief flowed from their end of the table, but they were good enough at it that Slughorn could not lay blame on either.

Those two were of that maddening type. They had strength in the subject, but didn't seem to care. They made their potions quickly and well. It gave them more time to do what they wanted. Slughorn had learned long before that you could only give the example, not receive it for them.

Remus excused himself from lunch a couple minutes early that day. He had something to look up for Professor Stimpta in Defense Against the Dark Arts. When he reached the library, instead of crossing to the general Defense aisle, he slipped over to a corner of the room for Magical Creatures.

He had been researching lycanthropy on the side since the day of first classes. The more he knew, he figured, the better. It was difficult reading – not only in the sense of the emotional impact, the material was dense and complicated. It was also incredibly disheartening.

Someone was watching him. With a deft move, he slid the book back into the shelf and made to look like he was interested in the Hinkypunk selection of books. _Dances with Hinkypunks_ appeared to have him captivated when Lily reached him.

"Interesting?" she asked, pointedly.

"Oh?" he asked, pretending he just noticed her. He looked up at her and then down at the book. "Er…it's alright. It's a bit strange. This bloke seems obsessed with these things." Remus had picked out the book ahead of time and flipped through the chapters to get a sense of it, in case anyone asked. He would have to find a new book for next time.

He closed the book and looked up. She was smiling, friendly. Her right hand held a silver book that seemed to shimmer in the dim torch light of the library's aisles. There was a moment of awkward silence. The last time they had been in a conversation had been on the train with James and Sirius going off on Severus. She seemed to sense his hesitation and understand the reason. She spoke first.

"I've seen you here a bit. You interested in Magical Creatures?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, they are interesting," he answered. "We don't learn about them in classes yet, so I just want to know more about what's out there, right?"

"Of course!" she said, "I'm reading about some of the Charms we heard about in class today." She patted the silver bound volume with her left hand. Its surface rippled like water in response.

Remus did not know much about Miss Evans. She was brilliant in all of her classes, particularly in Potions and Charms. She came from a Muggle family – not that that mattered. His family was deeply rooted in the Half-blood lot, with cousins and uncles and aunts of varying connectedness intermarried with Muggles, therefore Remus had developed no prejudice against them. He was – in fact – only beginning to discover the harsh reality of that here at Hogwarts.

Miss Evans was often conversing with that dark Severus boy from the train. The best he could understand was that they had been friends of sorts before Hogwarts. This news washed over him. He struggled to forget what having a friend come with him to Hogwarts would be like. He had his dorm-mates. They were his friends. She, however, had not befriended their little group – at least not publicly. He had assumed she would avoid him as she did Sirius, James, and Peter.

He realized he had sat too long, thinking and their conversation had stopped with her book thump. Embarrassed, he stepped into the most natural conversation for all the first years. "So, how do you like it?"

"It?" Lily asked, nonplussed.

"School, I mean, all this," Remus said gesturing vaguely about.

"Oh," she answered, flushing with happiness, "I love it."

"Me too," he said. "There are so many people, too! And, I know my dad must have described the moving paintings on the walls a hundred times, but I never got the sense of it."

"Your dad went here?" she asked.

"And my mum," Remus responded, "She was a Muggleborn, so she had no idea what was coming."

"I'm the same way."

"You are just naturally brilliant, then?" he asked.

She smiled and blushed, lightly. "But you are smart, too!" she said, diverting, "You are pretty quiet, but get all serious about it, unlike those three." Lily nodded in the direction of the library entrance where Remus's friends had appeared and were making a ruckus.

"I'm sorry for how they acted on the train," he said quickly, lowering his face. "I have nothing against your Slytherin friend, Severus was his name, right?"

Her look of derision at the appearance of James, Sirius, and Peter faded a little. "Yes, he's Severus, Severus Snape."

"Oh, right, I think I remember Slughorn asking if he was related to the Snapes of Germany in our first day of class," Remus mused aloud.

"Yes," she answered, thoughtfully, "but he is from near where I live. His mother is a witch, but he doesn't talk about his father much…so I'm not sure."

"My best friend goes to another school. His parents moved to Bulgaria," Remus stated with no provocation.

"Oh, that's awful," Lily replied. Reflecting she said, "None of my school friends were witches, so I had to leave them, too."

Remus was going to say – something – but he didn't have a chance. James saw Lupin and Lily and dashed over. "Hey Remus, Miss Evans," he said, half-bowing to her, mocking smile ever at his lips.

"Hello James," Remus responded, the touch of a sigh evident in his voice.

Lily remained silent.

"Sirius and I are considering going to visit the Giant Squid at the lake. Stubby Boardman, that Hufflepuff boy, said it had surfaced and was lazing out on the lakefront. Want to come?" he asked, broadly enough to include both of them.

Remus nodded, realizing his moment with Lily was over, "Sure."

James looked over to her with that Cheshire smile. Lily answered icily, "No thank you."

James sauntered off, "Your loss, then," he called over his shoulder.

Remus stuffed the book back onto the shelf, and said to Lily, "It was nice talking to you."

She had softened some when she answered, "You too."

As he sprinted after James, earning a disapproving tsk from the librarian, Remus thought he saw Lily lean close to the shelf where the werewolf books were organized. He may have imagined that she pushed a book back into place. His mind was on the lake though, and he soon caught up with the other three.


	7. Chapter 7: One Snowy Night

_The next full moon will occur this Thursday, the second of December. Please meet with Madam Pomfrey at seven o'clock in the Entrance Hall._

- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

This note slid into Remus' hand as he passed Professor Slughorn in the hallways early Monday morning. He had grown accustomed to these notices in the past few months, but they still terrified him. Firstly, he was in constant fear of someone discovering one. Not that he left them lying around – they were burned shortly after he read them. Secondly, the notice made the coming full moon seem so final.

Remus regretted this date especially, as it was the night before everyone left for the Christmas break. The four of them, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and James were all separating – all off to meet their parents in Hogsmeade for the holiday break. Remus would truly have loved to stay and enjoy more free time with them. Not that free time was necessary for fun involving those three.

However, this would pose another issue. How could he skive off from them this time? Last month he had come down with the Delipitanian Sniffles and was quarantined in the hospital wing for half a week. It took half a week to recover from the Sniffles, as well as from the effects of a werewolf transformation. The month before, his father had grown suddenly very ill. If this kept up, he would have a pile of dead relatives trailing behind him – as far as everyone at school was concerned.

An idea struck him. 'Of course!' he thought, 'My dad decided to pick me up a day early! They'll all be gone before my parents come to retrieve me from the hospital wing tomorrow, so they wouldn't see me anyway. It's perfect!'

James did not think it was so 'perfect.' "Totally unacceptable, mate," he berated, playfully. "How can we have a rowdy end-of-term party without you?"

"We'll manage," Sirius continued. "I'm sure we can have a right old time without this git."

Peter just smiled and laughed lightly. Remus couldn't help but smile, his mates' personalities always made life a little easier. "Just, just do one thing for me," he said.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, a hint of seriousness in his voice.

"Make a little extra noise, for me."

"Sure mate, sure, anytime," James answered.

With no little egging from his friends for the near-desertion the next day, Remus made it through to the last class before the break. Unfortunately, History of Magic had no power to hold Remus' attention mere hours before he parted with his friends and underwent a terrible transformation that would both wound him physically and drain him mentally. His professors in the more interesting subjects had no doubt seen a dip in his attention that day. This course could hardly sustain most of his fellow students on an average day.

For them, as for him, the prospect of what was to follow was a distraction, if only for a different reason. Professor Binns never allowed students to chat openly in class, but he was losing a strong battle that day. Those who were not simply staring longingly out the window were whispering or passing short notes around with what little bits of magic they were able to conjure.

James and Sirius had talked about plans to create quills that could write on each other's papers from across the room, but none of them knew how to do it, yet. Remus had suggested something he had heard about called Protean Charms, but the complexity was still prohibitive. They would find a way in due time.

Remus had been sure to tell everyone about his change of plans as they gathered their books the day before in Slughorn's class. He seemed the passer of information as far as Remus was concerned. In letting Slughorn know, the other professors would soon understand his cover story, a thing they were quick to pickup and repeat, if necessary. Everyone was understanding, and Remus was sure that was due, in part at least, to Dumbledore.

No students had shown any suspicions of his monthly activity, but it had only been a few months so far. Remus knew, in time, that it would become more and more difficult to keep his whereabouts hidden from them all – especially his closest friends. What would they do and what would they say when they found out? The reaction of most people when presented with the idea had been enough to bring him disapprobation and distrust. Remus was young, but he could see deep-seated fears in people – especially those with young families.

A couple times, in lunchroom conversation, other students would talk about monsters of the world – a favorite topic among young Muggleborn boys, particularly. Those who had grown up in wizarding households had long since heard all of the famous tales, but delighted in recounting them to their fellow students. Initiation was always an exciting activity. The werewolf was one that needed little explanation. Fairy tales of the Muggle variety were littered with information about them. The stories of true werewolf attacks, however, were new.

Remus had to fight to keep a keenly interested face as his friends described the romanticized world of lycanthropy. The Tale of Harwump the Hairy, The Howl Song of Sinistra the Strange, and others portrayed the lives of werewolves as full of excitement, danger, and love, somehow co-mingled with the monthly transformations. It made Remus sick to his stomach to see such a serious topic discussed so lightly.

This feeling fell away when he considered how else he had seen it treated. Had he not stood there as Igor's mother, Nadia, had fought with his own mum? Had he not seen her eyes and the rage they barely contained at the prospect of her only son interacting with him?

"Are you mad?" she nearly shrieked.

"All I'm saying is that the two have been great friends," his mum rejoined, "and Remus has been so sad after…after it all happened."

"My Igor is not coming near him," Nadia said, "You know how young boys are. They will squabble and fight over silly things and the next thing you know, he'll bite Igor."

"What?" Stephania answered, "My Remus would never bite Igor. They're friends!"

"They _were_ friends," Nadia responded. "Who knows what that does to a person. I've heard many of them change personalities completely, turn into real beasts even under the best circumstances."

Stephania was at a loss for words her anger was so great. Remus simply watched, quietly, sadly. No one else was present. This was a fight between the two women and Remus did not factor in as anything more than an observer.

"How…how dare you?" Stephania yelled when she had regained her voice. "What do you know of it? And how can you know what Remus is like now? He hasn't changed at all; I can assure you of that."

"Oh," Nadia snapped, "I'm sure he's fine now, but just wait, get him a little upset, a little worked up about something and then you won't know him. He's got the blood now. It controls him a night a month, but I'm sure that is generous. It certainly turns his decisions, too."

Stephania was beet red and fumed wordlessly again.

"In fact," Nadia continued, nearly spitting with anger, "I would wager that he is hardly ever like he was. Just put him in a competitive situation and his animal nature will out. I think they should all be locked up or killed on the spot. That's the only way to deal with _MONSTERS_!"

With a terrifying look at Remus, whom, finally recognized as being present, wished he could be part of the wallpaper, she stormed from the room, slamming the house front door behind her. The sound echoed long and ominously in the silent house.

Soon after, Igor had tried to sneak over at night. His parents, wary of his inevitable attempts, had set in place measures to prevent him. The noise it made woke everyone in both houses. A few weeks later, Nadia, her husband, and Igor left, swearing to the Lupins that they would not meet again. To this date, their word had been true enough. Neither the elder Lupins nor Remus had heard nor seen anything of them. It had been almost a year.

Dinner was a short affair that evening. Remus had said his parents would be waiting in Hogsmeade at around 7:00, and he needed to meet the gamekeeper, Ogg, for escort. Ogg was an old, crotchety keeper who kept mostly to himself. As cover, it was fairly perfect, for Remus. Ogg never spoke to students if he could avoid it, and often pretended deafness if anyone did. He was a funny fellow, at times. He often bungled simple things in ways no one could quite understand. A few times the Christmas trees were said to have wound up in the Divination room at the top of the North Tower.

Remus, himself, had seen Ogg mistake a scarecrow for someone he knew and saw him chatting with it for a good hour. Ogg was a wizard, and, in his day, a powerful Ministry of Magic Magical Enforcement agent. These days, he would say, to no one in particular, he preferred to use his hands. After a lifetime of dependence on magic, he wanted to shape things with his own hands and mind. Remus wondered if there was a little bit of wisdom mixed in with the oddness of the man, but he could not be sure.

Ogg really had nothing, at all, to do with Remus' appointment of this evening. He always met Madam Pomfrey for his trip to the Willow, and she alone ever came for him in the morning. Remus had wondered what made that choice most appropriate. Of all the staff, save, perhaps, young Miss Pince, the new librarian, she seemed the least capable of defending herself against a fully realized werewolf. Having seen the sort of damage he had caused in the morning after, Remus could only hope Dumbledore had his reasons.

With a fleeting look back at his best mates, Remus left the Great Hall into the deserted Entrance Hall. This hall had an old, elegant feeling of waiting. People passed through this place of transition. Remus did not have the spare thoughts for such things today. He saw the future narrowing to a single point of horror, as it had every month leading up to his next transformation.

Madam Pomfrey stood out on the front steps, looking across the grounds, pensively. Remus did not know if she was worried about his monstrous state, as he was, or merely wanted to keep things quiet and calm for him before hand, but she would never speak. As he came even with her, she stepped forward and led him out. The path was dark, but neither lit their wands. Moonrise was coming; Remus could feel it somewhere in his bones. If Dumbledore said 7 o'clock, then it would be 7 o'clock, Remus told himself.

It was cold. The clouds had lightened up considerably, but a small one had spent all of dinner dropping snow down upon the grounds. Most of the students at dinner had taken it as a joyful sign of the impending holiday. Remus did not look up at the magically enchanted ceiling. He had not felt up to it. Now, he could see the thin layer of powder that blanketed the immediate area around the castle. It was not as thick as it would be a few weeks from now. The winters often brought long, heavy snowfalls, Remus had learned.

The tree rose in the darkness, ominous and sad. It never moved unless someone approached. With some distance yet between them, it had not noticed them. Remus thought – even without monthly passing under it to transform into a beast – that it had a sad existence. The tree pushed away anyone who approached – nearly always thrashed, truthfully.

"Those with knowledge of the tree can approach safely," Professor Gurdleroot had told him when he had asked about it. However, it did not grow attachments to anyone, always raising the same defenses no matter who approached. These trees were not harmed at some past time, not damaged as people can be, but naturally cold and heartless. Remus pitied them. In later years, he would realize the irony of a monster protecting the school from him.

The tree sensed them and began flailing savagely. Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand, and, in a sweeping motion silently lifted a branch to strike a hidden knot on the tree's lower section. The tree relaxed its branches immediately. Madam Pomfrey stood and nodded for him to proceed.

Alone, Remus walked the long path, nearly bent in half most of the way. The tunnel seemed smaller every time he passed through it. At the end was a door, and beyond…hell. It was a simple but powerfully protected shack. Dumbledore had built it and the tunnel in the summer before he arrived. As glad as Remus was that Dumbledore would allow him to come to Hogwarts, he could not love this creation. Still, it was better than his cellar at the house.

He stood, bracing for the transformation. Remus knew the first few moments would be the worst. After that, well, he didn't think about that much. The silence before the storm pained him. He knew he must face this alone, as always, but some company would ease his mind from the expectancy.

Remus heard a sound behind him. Turning, alarmed and very aware of how late the time was he saw the door open. Red hair preceded the person entering. Lily! She had followed him, waited for Madam Pomfrey to leave and slipped down the hole. No! His mind screamed at him. She would be helpless before him in his werewolf form. She couldn't stay. It could happen at any time.

He whipped his head to the nearest window. The cold cusp of light above the horizon was just evident. It would not be long now. He realized that she had asked him a question, but he had been so stunned by her appearance that he had not heard it.

"Remus?" she asked, kindly – the softness of her voice made it all the worse. "Are you okay? Why are you here, alone? Where are we?"

Remus made a decision, quickly. He didn't have time to think of alternatives, and he would hate himself for this, he knew. There was nothing else.

"What do you care, Mudblood?" he yelled. "Get away from me! Go! Filth! Who invited you here? Go play with your friend Snivellus!" His voice was harsh and angry, forced. He could feel his face contorted with rage – a sensation he had never felt before. He hated it, but continued yelling, trying not to show any reaction to the shock and hurt that appeared in her face. He loosed a few more choice insults about her parents and hair – much of it nonsensical and inspired by fear and anger.

She just watched, hurt and angry herself, but did not respond. His attack had been thorough. With a withering look and tears in her eyes, she slammed the door and he could hear her retreat. A feeling of relief and extreme pain struck him at once. He had saved her from a terrible fate, but the cost of their friendship would be his burden to bear.

He could have told her the truth, but…he just couldn't. Remus was crying. He wanted her to be safe, but he didn't want anyone to know. It was confusing and hard and he wished he had someone to talk to, someone to confide in. He felt, more than at any other time, completely alone.

Then, it happened. The first few moments he could always remember. The horror of the instant always burned within him. It wasn't any sudden pain or feeling of complete helplessness that would overcome him. He did not see his body begin to change. That, thankfully, occurred when his mind had disappeared into the black recesses. What horrified him and ate at his mind in the next month's nightmares was the feeling of power. For a moment, he knew true strength and, what is more, he loved it. All thought of Lily was gone, and after that, so was he.


	8. Chapter 8: The Precipice

The lonely walk back up the path from Hogsmeade to the castle felt like the steps up to the executioner. He had heard from no one over the break, and he felt sure everyone had all heard about what he had said to Lily. As little as Lily had gotten on with his friends, they did not hate her. In fact, James seemed to go to extravagant measures to ensure she saw his greater pranks. Remus could not imagine how their faces would appear now.

The first couple of days of the break, Remus had been in recovery. He could do little more than eat and sleep. The transformation was physically painful and energy draining – like catching a horrendous evening-long flu once a month. The after effects only subsided in time. He always swam in and out of bizarre nightmares that he could never remember later. After this latest full moon, he could only imagine some of the horrible things he had seen.

The latter part of the break he spent in self-induced solitary. This did not seem too unusual to the Lupins. He had often fallen into mopey spirits following a transformation when at home. They did their best to be kinder to him, but their spirits were hardly light now. Money problems abounded and Gregorio worried that his job might be in trouble.

As for Remus, he preferred it when they left him to himself. Alone, he could face what he had to. They would not understand what had happened. "Why didn't you just tell her?" his mum would ask. Dad would probably just grunt, not able fully to take in anything Remus had to say. Every man has a breaking point. Gregorio reached his about seven months before.

He still wrestled with what he ought to have done. In the heat of the moment, yelling at Lily to make her leave quickly had made sense. Just asking her to leave and stating that he would explain later would not necessarily have moved her in time. Telling her the truth would have worked, but…even now, with hatred and shame seeming an imminent way of life, he preferred it to what they would think of him knowing what he had become.

That is how he had come, in the end, to decide to think about it. After painful nights staring wide awake at the ceiling, and dreary afternoons alone beneath his tired, leafless tree, he decided the best thing would be to accept the shame he was going to receive. It would hurt, but, maybe, in time, people would let it go and they would forgive him.

In addition, there was the problem of how to answer the inevitable questions. Lily had seen him enter the shack. A member of the Hogwarts staff, Madam Pomfrey, had left him at the hidden entrance. No one would think it a pure coincidence that he had just discovered the place. This solution came more easily. The shack was within the boundaries of Hogsmeade. He would simply tell people that the staff had sighted dangerous creatures lurking along the path to Hogsmeade at night – a statement as much a deterrent to nighttime snooping as it was an excuse for him to travel on a different path.

It would have to suffice. As he trudged through the snow, thicker than he had last seen it, he mentally braced for what he would soon face. He could already feel their eyes, like the dead castle windows from a distance, looking at him, through him. The disappointed faces among those he liked best would be harsher than the jeers and anger he expected from those he liked less. It made him wish, for a moment at least, that he had joined in Slytherin.

Everyone expected the Slytherins to hold a high standard on blood purity. They were accepted as a class apart from the others, and were often disliked, but as a united front, a strong group. He could not fit with them, nor could he fit within his own friends and classmates. In stepping so far from natural decorum, he had sidled himself into a niche unknown.

The return dinner would not be for a few hours, and he did not have any reason to see other students before then, so Remus decided the best thing was to put off that first moment of interaction as long as possible. Determined to wander some of the upper, less traveled areas of the school, Remus slipped through the entrance and up the Grand Stairwell. A few students mingled and walked about the entry, but no one that he knew.  
He slowly ascended the North Tower. It was one of the tallest and most remote of the many towers. On a whim he took one last shortcut he had personally discovered, Remus walked up an outdoor staircase onto the roof of the tower. He could see into the unlit windows of the Divination Room as he passed it. Who would expect the Divination professor to be there at this hour?

The last few narrow stone blocks crumbled a little under his feet. Even a magically constructed castle felt the effects of time and weather. The shingles had the texture and hardiness only dragon's scales could provide, but Remus did not know this. He could only tell they were of a carefully and, no doubt, magically constructed nature. They were ageless and pristine. He could see no gap, no broken shingles among them. He took a seat upon the southern side and looked out.

Hogwarts lay, in glistening snow-covered glory beneath his feet. The forest and the mountains hung as a Christmas-festive backdrop to a still, picturesque world. The lake had hardly a ripple in its surface. It was cold, as cold as any mountaintop exposed to the prevailing winds, but Remus did not think on it. He wore the coat he had arrived wearing, but the wind nipped playfully, and then more forcefully, at his uncovered face.

From this height, Remus couldn't see anyone – no returning students, no one at play in the great snowy wonderland, no professors reprimanding troublemakers. He liked the feeling of escape this height gave him. Away from the world, it all appeared quiet and peaceful. Even here, though, his thoughts began to betray him. He could not stay in With a world as serene as this. He would have to return, and then, then he would face what he had done.

The cold wind bellowed a mournful howl across the hills. It sang sadly and poorly, as though uncertain of the words and tune but sensible of the general theme it wanted to convey. Remus could feel his isolation and the height. The height seemed to show him the sad vista of his life.

He could see the people whose lives had changed because of him: his parents, Igor, and now Lily. All of them hurt because of his affliction. Try as he might, Remus seemed destined to sow disorder and damage everywhere he went. The eyes of an eleven-year-old, confused child see with shortsighted blinders. 'Perhaps, though,' his mind would argue, 'they would all recover, they could all get over the past pains and move on, without him.'

Igor could not spend his time worrying about a friend that was truly gone. His parents would lose the badge of shame he represented, and his father might get his business back. His parents' health and now Lily's peace of mind could all return. Sure, he was not going to think that they wouldn't be sad without him, but they would recover. If he were gone, it would be a shorter sentence than the pain his life could cause by living it.

Then, there was the thought of his later life. Remus had read extensively on the subject by now. He knew the consequences of a werewolf having children. They had a fifty-fifty chance of being born in that state. That, alone, was a deterrent for marriage, for keeping himself in isolation. His very existence was only bearable if he kept himself apart.

Remus shook his head to dispel these thoughts. He stood, angry, and looked out with a hard and tearful eye. "What do you want of me?" he shouted to the wind. Nothing but a cold bitterness filled his mouth in answer. Nothing, only a guaranteed lifetime of wretchedness awaited him. There was no curing his body or his soul. He was inexorably tied to this new state of things as long as he lived. Everyone he interacted with would be affected.

"Why?" he mouthed breathlessly, collapsing to his knees at the precipice.

'It would be so easy, so easy,' a voice in his mind whispered maliciously, 'to slip forward those last few inches. It would be over quickly, you know. You'd hardly even feel it.'

Remus could not respond. He didn't have any defense. He had nothing to shout back to berate the foul aspect. Drained and alone, he sat at the edge and looked down on his death. The tower poised several hundred feet above the main castle hold. Beneath him, Remus saw the white-capped roof of the mid-section of the castle.

Below that roofing, he knew, sat the Great Stairwell and a few classrooms. Looking up a little, he could see, amid the other towers, the Gryffindor Common Room. There was light within the windows at the main level and he was sure there were people greeting friends and having an enjoyable time before they had to return to classes in the morning.

His mind had gone numb, drinking in a nothingness that consumed him. Even his despair and pain had fallen away. Only he and that precipice existed now. Darkness fell upon him and he realized the sun was slipping behind the mountains to the west. 'Darkness like death,' he found himself thinking.  
He felt a hand fall upon his shoulder. It was soft and comforting. Without hearing a word spoken, Remus felt himself rising from the pit. When he looked up, his stomach plummeted again. Lily stood there, hair flowing like a violent flame in the icy breeze and a serious expression on her face.

Remus felt small, like a worm, and he was suddenly worse than a moment before. He had no words to say to her and could not imagine how she would have anything good to say to him. Guilt crowded out all feeling of sadness and despair. He had hoped this confrontation would wait, and now she had arrived at his lowest point. He prepared for a verbal thrashing and knew he couldn't do anything but take it. He had brought this on himself and it was time to accept the consequences.

"Remus?" she asked with an emotion Remus could not quite place evident in her voice.

He looked down, unable to face her accusations. She knelt down beside him, and turned his face towards her. His eyes were fighting to keep tears in and she could see that. Knowing this made it harder to fight the tide. Her face was full of concern, and he couldn't tell why. Remus burst into tears, completely breaking down. His confusion and loneliness coupled with the pain and unexpected compassion he saw in her eyes.

She held him and he cried into her shoulder. They remained silent for a moment; the wind's howl the only sound they could hear. With little effort, she brought him to his feet and walked him down the steps into the tower. The warmth that greeted them was comforting but harsh against his frozen skin. Lily conjured a bright blue fire and set it in a jar before them. Then, she spoke.

"Remus," she said. "I know why you said what you said to me. I…I went back to tell you off. I was so angry," her voice shook as she spoke, "and I heard you, through the heavy door. The howls were unmistakable, and it all began to make sense. I remembered you were searching the library in the Magical Creatures section, and your monthly disappearances. It all suddenly slid into place."

Remus couldn't say anything. He was shocked. Of all the things she might have said, her admitting to discovering his secret was the last thing he expected.

"I know you would never have said those things," Lily said, eyes shining with fresh tears, "you're too kind a person. I know it can't be easy, either. I know that I cannot know what it is like to be in your situation. Just know that I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to."

They spoke long into the evening, somehow undiscovered by the caretaker or any professor. That little bit of magic Remus could not attribute to anyone. He spoke and she listened, giving him kind words when she could. Remus expressed so many things he had held in, so many thoughts and worries. It was the beginning of a new time in his life.

Remus felt connected with someone like he hadn't since before the attack. The three friends in his dormitory were great for fun times, but he had not felt comfortable confiding in them, not like this. Fate had brought him a positive force in his life. His life had not cleared and become free of trouble, but he had someone who understood, Lily Evans.


	9. Chapter 9: Dreams and Burnt Offerings

Two years and three months had passed since Lily had learned his secret. Spring was blooming. The snow had melted and flowed into the lake; the grass had emerged and was taking on a patchy, brown-green hue just before the new seeds overshadowed the last of the deceased predecessors. Students lay out on the grounds, soaking in the refreshing sun's warmth and enjoying a rare, free weekend before the professors began to terrify the lot of them with exam preparation. Amid these many, a quartet of students lazed under a young but strong tree on the northwest face of the lake.

Remus watched, amused, as James and Sirius plotted a new prank to pull on Phineas Redpalm, the fifth year prefect in Gryffindor who had made halting their every attempt at "fun" his life's mission. Remus could only shake his head at the futility of the older boy's cause. Peter was wrapped up in their plans, nodding his head vigorously at every plan and counter plan.

From across the way, perhaps fifty meters around the lakeside, Lily walked with one of her good friends, Alice, chatting and laughing at something as they walked. Remus smiled softly to himself. She had become a great friend to him. The tension and fear he had had early on had lifted in having a confidante. He couldn't say for sure, but he felt that his recovery times after the transformations had shortened some. His disappearances were a little less obvious.

Still, he was running low on ideas. Both of his parents had been ill, he had come down with a couple diseases, and a distant relative had died. People must have been talking. He could see whispered conversations abruptly end as he and his friends passed by. They could have been talking badly about one of his other friends, too, but Remus couldn't help feeling a little paranoid about it.

Luckily, the many moods of the students followed the seasons. Whenever he felt convinced someone would figure it out, the school's collective attention would fall on some other hapless young student. There was always something to dwell on for the masses.

His close friends, however, hadn't said much. They had, of course, begun to nickname him Limping Lupin, for all his illnesses, but only in the most playful way. Their attention hardly ever seemed to stay on one topic for very long. That was quite alright with Remus, however.

Remus' parents were a bit better. His father had earned a promotion through incredible toil, and, some suggested, pity. They were both in better overall health, and his mother had begun to entertain some guests, albeit singly and in secret. Life had indeed improved with time for all of the Lupins.

Remus realized he had been sitting quietly a bit too long, but no one seemed to have noticed. They were still discussing the plot with animation.

"…and then the wall should spit eel liver on his hat when he passes that statue…"

"No," James said, "You always want to use eel liver, but it's not that funny, mate. We need his trousers to disappear at lunch or something. That'd get a laugh."

Sirius grumbled something that sounded like "disappear your trousers," but after a moment nodded in agreement. Peter nodded, too.

"Well," Lupin stepped in, "unless we sneak into his dormitory and pre-jinx the trousers, it will be difficult to get near enough to do it quietly. Plus, invisibility spells are a bit advanced, even for you two. What we could do, is make his pants dance a jig while he's wearing them."

"Oh, nice one, Remus!" James exclaimed. "We could pre-jinx the trousers, but how do we trigger it?"

Sirius replied, "Weren't you telling us about a verbal cue to set off spells, Remus?"

"Yes," Remus said, thinking back. "It seems to me that it was in that book James found the spell to magnify his voice."

"Oh, yeah, that was great!" Peter said, laughing as though seeing it again.

"I don't think it was that difficult," Remus said, still musing.

"Way to go, Mr. Technical Expert!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Hear, hear!" James continued.

Remus' studious nature often put many more surprisingly useful spells in front of him than the rest had seen. As such, he was gaining a reputation as a fact checker and expert in all things necessary for pranks. He didn't study for the pranks, though.

His natural curiosity had brought him to absorb as much as he could about every topic they discussed in class. His current fascination was with a particularly complicated charm that he had come across, the creation of Gubraithian Fire. The power to light something ablaze forever just astounded and dazzled his imagination. Such a lasting impact was an incredible power and responsibility.

As quickly as the other three had shown approval at his plan, their minds were elsewhere. Severus was passing by. Nothing bothered them as much as he did. Remus didn't try to intervene anymore. He was always drowned out by their anger.

"Snively is here," Sirius said, eyes training on the passing boy. Severus had put a wide gap between himself and the four of them either by chance or upon seeing them. At first, he had taken to their animosity with a lot of his own, but lately – and Remus suspected Lily had had a hand in it – he had switched tactics to avoid them as much as possible. Frankly, Remus preferred this to the former way.

James and Sirius had not changed their own tactics, but seemed a little less quick to attack if he was far away. In this case, they just glared at him while he was in view. Severus passed by without throwing a look – pleasant or not – in their direction. Remus breathed a quiet sigh of relief. On a beautiful day like this, all they needed was trouble.

After a few minutes, James and Sirius had to leave for Quidditch practice. Peter always enjoyed tagging along to watch. He and Remus did not have quite the same affinity for broomsticks as the other pair. Remus wished them well, and walked back up to the castle. He headed, by default, towards the library. When he wasn't with his mates, he often wound up there.

As he entered the library, he realized it was empty. Even Ms. Pinch had left her sacred post. As quiet as she kept the library, students tended to congregate in whispers here or there - enough, at least, to keep a steady buzz of sound and activity. Today, however, there was no sound at all. Unperturbed, Remus walked over to the Transfiguration section and pulled a few books off the shelves at random. One was heavy, far too heavy for the size of it and bound in an ancient, musty binding. The other two were lighter and in exceptionally colorful jackets.

Remus carried the books to a study table, and opened the first. The text was illegible, like something written in a forgotten tongue. The character set was unlike anything Remus had ever seen. He flipped through the book quickly, confirming that there was no translation section. With a look of disappointment, Remus closed the book, and picked up one of the colorful ones. It, too, was unreadable. The third followed suit.

How could this be? Why would three books taken at random all be impossible to read? He had never run across this in any of the books, and had only heard of two in the Restricted Section written in a foreign - but translatable - tongue. The Charms Professor had mentioned them once - a German Charms Master had written them. You simply ask the books to translate to whatever language you spoke and they would suddenly appear in that language. But books with no translation and of a tongue Remus had never seen? That was unusual.

Remus decided to put the books back and stood up. When he reached down for the books on the table, they were gone. He raced over to the shelves and could make out the two colorful tomes in their places. 'Very odd,' he thought. No one had yet entered the library. Remus began to feel uneasy. Exams were a month away, surely some over-achieving student would be preparing for their O.W.L.s.

He walked over to the window and looked out on the grounds. There was a heavy fog obscuring everything. That did not feel right. It was a beautiful day! There were no clouds in the sky, much less fog. Remus whirled around and gasped.

Severus Snape stood over by the Transfiguration books, apparently flipping through something disinterestedly. When he felt Remus' eyes on him, Snape looked up with a malicious smile. "Do you like it?" he asked.

Remus answered, "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, it's crude," Severus responded, "I will admit, but it worked pretty well."

"What worked?" Remus asked, nonplussed.

"This little dream reality," Snape said, gesturing at the library. "I wanted to talk to you alone, but you're always off with … them."

Remus felt uneasy. "Why didn't you just ask me for a word? You know my mates always go off to Quidditch this time of Saturday."

"I didn't want anyone to disturb us for the moment," Snape said, brushing away the protest on Remus' lips.

"So," Remus began after a pause, "what is it you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," Severus said, "I just have something I need to ask you."

Snape paused again, seemingly admiring his spell's work. Remus noticed that a few of the shelves had begun to sag and the torches nearest them were melting like wax. Remus had nothing against Snape, but his demeanor was a little disturbing at the moment.

"Well?" Remus said, "Out with it!"

Snape looked at him, hard. Remus noticed that the boy's face could crinkle up when frowning and appeared unpleasant. "What is between you and Lily?"

Remus was a little startled. He had expected some question regarding Severus' enemies, namely, Sirius and James. He knew that Severus and Lily were friends, friends from before their journey to Hogwarts, too. However, he did not think that his own friendship with Lily would be an affront to Severus.

"Why?" Remus asked. "We're friends. Does that answer your question?"

"Friends, huh?" Snape answered dubiously, "You two seem to hang around a lot for just friends."

Lily and Remus often spent an hour or so every couple days discussing things in the library. They did not talk about his condition there, but talked about classes or interesting books they had found. If he needed a serious talk, they would find time for that with a walk around the lake. Yet, Remus could not see how this was seen as anything but friendship. He still spent the majority of his waking moments around his best mates.

"Yes, friends!" Remus exclaimed, exasperation flowing from him.

"I see," Severus said, slowly.

Remus watched him. Severus stood fingering the hardwood edge of a bookcase. It would not budge under his fingers. Snape appeared angry, as though he had been insulted rather than mollified.

"Is that all you wanted to ask me?" Remus asked.

Snape looked over at him, face pale and eyes glazed in disconnected concentration. His hand clutched the bookcase edge harder, knuckles whitening as much as his face did under the strain.

Remus walked towards him, attempting to be consoling, "Are you alright?"

"Stay away!" Severus cried tearing himself away from the approaching Remus. The anger on Severus' face was quite evident now. His cheeks had flooded over with red heat and his brow furrowed in confusion. He did not look at Remus, but seemed to glare at an unseen person. Then, without warning, he stalked off and the doors of the library swung shut behind him.

Moments after he had left, the room about Remus dissolved and he found himself standing in the middle of an empty classroom. There was a faint touch of green dust on his sleeve. Remus collected this carefully in the cup of his hand, and stowed it in an empty vial from his satchel. Whatever that dust was, Remus felt sure it had something to do with that dream state Severus had created. He wanted to know what had been done to him and why.

Severus had not shown his usual hatred here. He seemed…worried, almost. Severus usually kept a bit of a scowl at the corners of his mouth, but this had grown greatly while standing there. He had seemed very distracted and scared, almost. What had he been so concerned about? As scary as Severus had acted, Remus felt bad for him. There was certainly something very wrong.

Remus had learned very little from his conversation with Severus and wasn't sure if anyone else would either. James and Sirius would demand retribution for his attack on Remus, so it would be best not to say anything. Lily, however, as a friend to both of them, might be more understanding. Remus set off immediately for the lake, hoping to find her there, still.

"He did what?"

"Severus created some sort of dream map of the library and asked me what was the deal between us," Remus said, again gesturing between himself and Lily. They were walking around the lake's edge. The surface rippled lazily every time some fish came near the surface.

"Did he say where he came up with that?" Lily asked, looking furious.

"No," Remus responded, looking a little frightened. He had not expected this strong of a reaction from her over this. "But…but I did find this powder on my shoulder when I came out of it."

He pulled out a small vial; all that he could save of the green soot. Remus handed the vial to Lily and she studied it quickly. She lowered the hand holding the vial and it shook quickly. She didn't look at Remus, but at the distant castle wall behind him, glaring.

Remus tried to calm her, "It's okay, he didn't try to attack me or anything. I appreciate your concern, but it doesn't bother me that much."

Lily looked over at him with confusion, and then her face flushed a bit. She laughed. "Oh," she said, "I'm glad you're okay. I didn't think he would hurt you or anything, I'm just angry he used it." She lifted the vial to shoulder height.

"You know what it is?" Remus asked, incredulous.

"I…I sort of made it," Lily said, meekly. She turned and looked interested at a single leaf that floated in the water nearby.

"You made the dream powder?" he cried in surprise.

"Yes, I did," she said, a little more pride in her voice now. "And I showed Severus, but I didn't think he'd use it!"

"Was this in a book?" he asked.

"Er…no," Lily answered, and the followed quickly, "Some parts of it were from other potions, of course. I just thought of a connection between them that made sense. But I hadn't tested it yet! I can't believe he did that. It could have been dangerous!"

To quell Lily's rising anger, Remus asked, "So, how does it work?"

"Well," Lily said, her face thoughtful, "the base of the potion is a simple sleeping potion mixed with a transformative potion. The extra element is an essence of the place to be created. Therefore, in order to create the library dream, Severus would have had to find a bit of the essence of the library, some scrap of book or wood. He would make it something unique to the place and do an Imbuing Charm on it. This gathers elements of the place around it into an object. Usually this is used to make food taste specifically like the place they're from – rather like Muggles gather local spices to make a local taste to all their foods.

"Then, the ingredients are mixed and inhaled. He must have given you a whiff of it as you entered the doorway to the actual library and led you into another room out of the way before taking a whiff himself. I didn't know you would both have been in the same library the way it was designed. It must be an excess of Ember Leaf or something…"

Lily mused over this minute detail of her potion creation. Remus was just astounded at the complexity of the potion. Somehow, she could concoct potions that he could barely understand when she explained it. He felt relieved, though. He knew she was good at her potions. No wonder Severus had used her idea. Creations of hers seemed more likely to succeed than potions from anyone else.

Before he had a chance to change the subject, another third year, a Ravenclaw named Cid, ran up and shouted to them, "The Divination Tower is on fire!"

The two looked up towards the castle. Sure enough, a thick cloud of ink-black smoke rose from the far end of the edifice. From this far out, it was difficult to see what was going on. Everyone on the other side of the lake was looking skyward, also. Remus had an eerie feeling. The statuesque image of so many upturned faces gave greater weight to the fire than the plume of smoke they looked at.

Remus and Lily looked at each other, both pairs of eyes reflecting the shock in the other. Remus stepped forward. Lily grabbed his hand, "Where you going?" she asked.

He answered, "The fire. They, they might need help!"

"But it's dangerous!" she cried.

He pulled away, saying, "It'll be okay."

Away he ran, feeling reverberations of a memory bubbling up. Lily's voice followed him for a moment and was lost in the pounding of his heart in his ears. He had to help, if he could. The fire was growing visible, a red orange light ringed around the tower. Still, he ran. Professors and students poured out of the main entrance to reach a safe distance. No one headed inwards. Two professors stood at the Entrance doors, keeping everyone out. Remus, seeing the obstacle, ran around the side of the castle that would bring him closer.

The fire had completely engulfed the tower, and it began to rain hot embers all over the other rooftops. The roof shingles were of dragon's scales and could not ignite, but the other towers were still in danger. As he passed the Quidditch field, Remus saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team pouring out from practice. They, too, had seen the danger and were moving to congregate with the rest of the school.

James saw Remus running, and caught up with him. "What are you doing, mate?" he asked.

"I'm going to help, if I can," Remus replied in once burst, gulping air as he continued to run. James kept astride, and said, "Let's help, then!"

Remus smiled and James laughed in return. James stopped Remus with his broom in hand, and said, "Get on!"

Stopped and out of breath, Remus asked, "What?"

"Get on!" James repeated. "We can't do much good from down here."

Remus hesitated. He hated flying. If it could save the school, though… With a groan, he got on behind James, and took careful hold. The air was suddenly very thick and blisteringly hot. The smoke shot skyward, but everything else seemed to fall down upon them. A window in the Divination Room exploded. Fire belched out as from a dragon's mouth, and burning ashes and dust rained in a dazzling pattern. Amid the burning remnants, Remus could make out singed tealeaves fluttering desperately in the air.

James did what he could to steady them and move them away from the tumult. With Remus' unsteady weight added on, it was all James could do to hold still. Remus reached into his pocket and extracted his wand. With a mental image fresh in his mind and a newfound spell learned, Remus stared down his fiery foe. He smiled and shouted, "AGUAMENTI!"

James had to struggle to reorient them as the eruption of water from Remus' wand threw them off balance. They nearly flipped and Remus cried in terror. James righted them and laughed the louder, face – as Remus could see – covered in ash and excitement. His first water burst went far off the mark, wetting the roof and extinguishing only itself in his fear. Remus braced himself again, saying to James, "Ready?"

He heard back over the whipping wind and the fire's roar a jovial "Ready!" from James. Without delay, he again pointed his wand, and shouted "AGUAMENTI!" This time he held on to James' shoulder with his other hand, and they only jolted slightly. Water slammed into the side of the tower and through the destroyed window.

The fire fought back. It grew harsh and angry on the far side of the tower, threatening to tear the tower apart. The dragon's scale tiles glowed with a white heat but refused to ignite. The stone-walls breathed splinters of fire through the now-visible cracks. Still, the water seemed to have an impact. Steam mingled with the black smoke and created a beautiful swirling cloud of the contrasting night and day as it ascended heavenward. James was shouting something, but Remus could not hear it above the roars of water and fire. It sounded like he was shouting "mumble…ore, mumble….ore."

Remus could not look around. He had to concentrate all his might on that fire-filled window. Suddenly, the tower fire was gone. The inside of the tower had frozen solid and his stream of water froze, as if in shock. He let it die. Then, in the following silence, Remus could make out what James had been shouting, "Dumbledore!" There he was, grey hair whipping behind him in the wind, wand poised to destroy any last specks or embers.

Dumbledore had come at the fire from James' left side, and had seemingly defeated the fire with a single wave of the wand. Remus' efforts had been in vain. He felt relief that the fire was out, but wished he could have been more helpful. James coughed and laughed at the same time. Remus simply coughed. Dumbledore flew over and led them back to the grounds. The three of them landed amid the congregated mass of students and teachers.

Dumbledore leapt from his broom like a youth. James stepped down with a look of pride and excitement, as though he had just won the Quidditch Cup – a feat he hoped to achieve in a few short weeks against the Ravenclaw team. Remus was completely exhausted and remembered again his fear of flying. He sat down on the ground to recover his breath. A multitude of people swam over them, cheering or crying out in concern. When Miss Pomfrey had had her fill of the pair, the students swarmed to cheer them for their bravery. Lastly, the professors came to scold and commend, as well. Remus was overwhelmed. After all, hadn't Dumbledore done the most? He and James had just begun when it was over.

James and Remus were carried high and up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Another immediate, great party began, but Remus spent most of it avoiding the limelight as much as possible. Sirius and Peter had already been by a few times to express their annoyance at being left out. They were over with James who ate the attention as a main course. The greatest mystery that had everyone talking was the source of the fire. No one had been up there to see it start, apparently.

When Remus finally had a moment to himself, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Lily. Her face showed worry overshadowed by pride and admiration. He felt himself blush and couldn't help it. She smiled back.

"That was very brave of you," she said. "Crazy, but brave."

"Well, flying was his idea," Remus said, gesturing towards James. Lily didn't look over.

"You insisted on going. You were the one who engulfed the fire in water."

"Dumbledore put it out," he pointed out for what he felt was the thirtieth time that evening.

Lily smiled a knowing smile. "Professor Dumbledore said you two really helped. The top of the tower would have blown before he made it up there if you hadn't. You're a hero."

Remus didn't say anything. Dumbledore had said that? He, Remus, a hero? Remus didn't know what to think of these things. They didn't fit with who he was. He…he was just Remus, the werewolf. Werewolves were never heroes. They became villains, or, at best, rogue hermits. He was branded. His life had been seized by a terrible force. How could anyone see something heroic in that?

Lily seemed to read his thoughts, or she interpreted correctly the distance in his eyes. She whispered, "What you are is not as important as what you do. You and your friend…" here she shot James a quick, but not overly hostile, look, "protected the castle and the people still inside. That is quite a lot for a third year, right?"

"I suppose," he muttered.

"I know it," she answered. "Now, come on, join the celebration! You always want to find a way to be down on yourself, but not tonight. Have a butterbeer. Your friend, Sirius, went to some effort to get them."

Twenty-five minutes later, Remus disappeared from among the crowd, and wandered up the boy's dormitory stairwell. It had been a very strange day. It was a night of the new moon, so only the stars lit his way up the stair – someone having decided it would be a funny gag to set a water dripping spell over each of the torches again. The moon's absence seemed to leave Remus with a sense of safety and distance from his problems.

He could feel a warmth from the Common Room, a welling of camaraderie that he had not expected to feel directed towards him. Still unsure of how to think of all that had passed this day, Remus decided to do his best to let his uncertainties fall away, for the moment. Tonight had been a good respite. Between his monthly transformation and now Snape's scary behavior, Remus had needed something different. This night had given him that. Overall, it was a good day.


	10. Chapter 10: Stone of the Sun

The next morning, the sun dawned perfectly. The rays played happily on the wall high above Remus' head. He had woken early. Refreshed and with a happiness that came from morning forgetfulness, he watched the light slowly descend down the wall towards the head of his bed. As the light illuminated the towers without, Remus remembered the day before.

There! Remus could see the still iced-over Divination Tower. It seemed smaller and less threatening from the warm protection of his bed and in the beautiful dawn light. Yesterday all had been ash and flying dust, but that was past. He and James were heroes. Everyone had said so. Lily had said so. In the clear, brisk morning light, even Remus could begin to believe it, too.

In the distant places of the Gryffindor Tower, people began stirring. In the morning stillness, Remus could hear the reverberations of shuffling feet and creaking bedposts throughout the tower. As each dorm heard the adjacent one's disturbance, more sounds began, like an expanding echo. Remus sighed. His legs slid out from under his covers and struck hard against the bedside table. "Mmph!" he bit his lip, stifling the mild curse. Sitting up now, he held his leg, swung it forward, and down briefly.

No one else had risen in his dorm. Peter's snores bubbled at random intervals. James and Sirius remained deep within the recesses of their curtained beds. Remus eyed this collection quickly, with a well-practiced movement, pulled off his undershirt, and replaced it with a new one. This was always a tense moment. His back felt a brush of cool air. It soothed the torn and healed-over flesh. The scars he bore were great, and they would never fade. If anyone saw them, Lupin was not sure what story he could tell. Therefore, he hid them, as best as he could.

When he was alone, Lupin would look at them, sometimes. They had run the gamut from grey as death to red and fierce. The weather, time of the month, and his mood seemed to alter their state. The nurse, Miss Pomfrey had looked at them on occasion, but as they did not reopen or cause him more than minor irritation, there was little purpose to it. The scars he carried would remain with him forever. Like the dark secret they represented, he hid them away beneath his robes.

Remus finished dressing and proceeded down the stairs quietly. He wanted to have a few moments to himself before the crowds swarmed in for breakfast downstairs. No one was in the Common Room when he reached the base of the stairs. In a few steps, he was at the doorway and closed the portrait hole behind him. The Fat Lady, too, was only just rising.

The corridors beyond were sparser still. The suits of armor hardly budged as he passed and the portraits were mostly all snoozing soundly. Remus' robes fluttered with another of those impossible breezes that found their way in the deep middle of the castle where no open window could have led them. Passing down a couple more flights lit with torches that dimmed as dawn's light began to sprinkle through and reflect off every major surface, Remus felt comfort in the solitude. After the excitement of last night, a moment of calm before the resuming storm felt excellent to Remus.

Remus passed slowly down the last flight of stairs into the Entrance Hall. To one side stood the Great Hall, the sounds of a few early risers echoing like a pair of chimes at a cave's entrance. On the other was the great double door entrance to Hogwarts. He angled off towards the Great Hall, suddenly feeling hunger for some pastries and a tall juice. From across the hall, however, Remus could see a professor approaching, quickly and pointedly towards him.

It was Professor Dumbledore himself! Dumbledore hardly ever approached students individually. He had a kindly manner, and a caring disposition, but seemed to prefer an aloofness that kept him far from the student body. Remus paused, curious. It was not time for his monthly retreat. Perhaps Dumbledore wished to thank him personally for his help yesterday. No one else was present.

Dumbledore wore that familiar, serious expression as he walked up. He held a letter in his right hand. It was open and one side with a torn seal flapped with each step. As he approached, he raised it, as though he were going to read from it, but – as with a second thought – he passed it across the space between them. Remus took it and read:

Professor Dumbledore,

It has come to the Ministry's attention that Master RJ Lupin's parents have been in a terrible accident this day, the Eighth of May. They are presently in critical care at St. Mungo's. The cause of the accident has not been determined at this time. Please inform young Remus of the state of things, and ensure he has safe passage to St. Mungo's. A Ministry Social Worker will await him at the entrance by nine o'clock. Please make haste in this matter.

Yours sincerely,

Madam Dirkhem

Secretary of Healing Affairs

Ministry of Magic

London

The coldness of this letter would have stunned Remus had the news it contained not done so. His parents, by the sound of it, had been in some accident and were _both_ in mortal danger at the Wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's. He looked up from the letter, face suddenly pale and drawn. His quiet, calm morning had evaporated in air as thin as that parchment in his hands.

Dumbledore was looking down at him with a troubled face. Remus was numb and could say nothing. The Headmaster remained mute, standing in front of his pupil and hardly seeming to see him. Remus spared a thought to wonder whether the Headmaster was well, but his mind recalled him to the matter at hand.

He lowered the letter-hand, and looked directly in his Headmaster's face. "H-how will I get to St. Mungo's?"

Dumbledore answered promptly, concisely, "I have arranged for a Floo Network transfer from Professor Hopkins's office. This way."

Away Dumbledore walked. Remus followed with his head down and worried. They ascended the Grand Staircase and turned a corner towards the Muggle Studies corridor. Remus thought he saw, as he passed from the main hallway, the form of Lily descending the stairs behind them. She had not seen him. Her face was aglow with Sunday morning happiness as she chatted with a friend on the way to breakfast. Remus turned his head away and continued to follow Dumbledore.

The hall terminated in a classroom Remus had never entered. His parents had taught him enough about the Muggle world – "a requisite for all great businessmen" his father used to say – that he did not need a course to teach him about them. The classroom was similar to all the others he had seen, with the exception of the odd Muggle contraptions that lined the walls like so many pieces of distinctive art.

No one was present. Dumbledore and he flowed between the desks, robes brushing the empty seats, two phantoms passing between gravestones in a cemetery. Behind the professor's desk, a small door led into the office. Remus had managed to see a handful of professor's offices between asking the professors for references to interesting topics and because of several of James and Sirius' pranks.

This office had a wall covered in old Muggle literature, another with broken electronics and sketches of fascinating Muggle structures, and a pile of Muggle newspapers on the over-crowded desk. An old coffee cup stain marked the face of Andy Roberts. "Antiguan exhibits his surprise bouncer," read the caption below. The room was a shoddy, disorganized mess, but seemed well loved.

Remus passed the desk and looked around for the Floo powder box. There was none. He looked up at Dumbledore, questioning. Dumbledore was not looking at him. His gaze was upon the fire he had just conjured. It was changing hues before their eyes. It began a brilliant hot white and cooled through blue and orange. When it had settled, Dumbledore flicked his wand again imperiously. It leapt to attention and then released from stillness to a wavy activity, instantly turning emerald.

Remus couldn't help admire the trick. The fire didn't need powder, apparently – not with Dumbledore there, at least. Dumbledore motioned him forward. Remus felt the warmth lick his face but he was not burned. He breathed in the smoke, coughed, and cleared his throat. "St. Mungo's" he cried. The world spun and Dumbledore was lost at the end of a long tunnel, watching him with a curious expression that Remus thought held a mixture of concern and anxiety.

The world reemerged with a flash and he caught himself on the edges of the fireplace. Green flames licked at his sides for a moment and were gone. Remus stepped timidly out of the fireplace into a lobby he hadn't seen in a couple years. It felt so large and empty. The usual crowd of injured and magically maimed was missing. A single Healer sat at the desk flipping through a crumpled copy of The Daily Prophet.

Remus approached the desk. The attendant did not look up from her paper. He stood there for a moment, waiting for the Healer to notice him. When she did nothing but turn the page, he cleared his throat. She looked up and lowered her paper. Without a word of greeting, she turned and pulled out a clipboard.

"Please, sign in," she said, dryly.

Remus took the offered clipboard and wrote his name, his parents' names, and the date on the next free line. He set it down again and saw that the Healer was absorbed in her paper again. Remus asked, "Where can I see new arrivals?"

"What type of injury?" she asked, not removing her eyes from the page.

"Er...I don't know," he said. "All I have is this note." He passed the note to her.

She read it disinterestedly. "Lupin, hmm?" She pulled out a registry and began flipping through it. "Lupin…Lupin…ah, there it is. They are in the Critical Care Ward."

Before Remus could ask where it was, she continued, "They're not allowed visitors."

Remus didn't know what to say. Why had they asked him to come if he couldn't see them? Where was the Ministry Social Worker? Where was anyone?

Like a dam breaking after a delay, Remus felt everything falling apart. His parents were dying, he couldn't see them, this Healer was unhelpful, the great Dumbledore had done nothing to assuage his fears, and he was alone in this lobby. No one was there to tell him what he should do or help him. He may have walked only a dozen feet from leaving Hogwarts, but he felt the castle and his friends were a million miles away. Tears began to well in his eyes.

He had not cried nor shown any reaction to the news before. That thought made him cry even more. After facing what he had, could he be so insensitive to something so terrible? Remus cried without stop, his eyes leaking tears for he knew not quite what. His parents were very important to him, but he couldn't be sure that he was crying for fear for their lives. Was he sad for his own experiences? Was he sad because he was back in St. Mungo's, the place where his grim fate had been sealed?

The Healer had dropped her newspaper and come to his side. He could barely feel the reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was apparent that she was unaccustomed to dealing with children, but could not stand to see him cry. She had knelt down to his level and had a comforting hand on his shoulder, but seemed at a loss for words. He continued to cry, but silently, rivers streaming down his cheeks. Remus didn't even try to stem them or stifle them in his arms. He let them pour out, as though the tears would cleanse him.

Another attendant approached, hearing the initial cries in the echoing lobby. The footsteps of the Healers were soundless – the hospital provided padded and magically quiet shoes. Remus looked up when he felt something, and saw that several had suddenly gathered around him. The attendant of the lobby was still there, and she looked relieved to have some support. The others all had a concerned, kindly face, and spoke in whispers with the first one he had met. She received a few irritated looks, but no one reprimanded her.

Remus stopped crying. The sudden appearance of this group of Healers had surprised him. He wiped his face with his cloak and began to grow red with embarrassment. He was feeling, as a fourteen year-old boy, that he was acting childish crying so much in public. He sniffled, shut his eyes, and opened them again with a hardened look replacing the weak and weary one.

Remus never knew how he endured the first seven hours of waiting. The day had rolled by slowly, and the sun's march had proceeded tirelessly in its course. The swarm of faces he had met blurred. Between Healers and Ministry Officials, he couldn't tell who was there to help or act as a simple nuisance. Remus had filled out many forms, and forms to verify that he had filled out the other forms. Yet, none of them could tell him how his father and mother were.

He had not remained in the lobby for long. That, at least, was a blessing. The steady stream of people that had begun to flow through there in the morning hours made him feel exposed and constantly watched. Remus spent most of the day in the office rooms on the administrative side of St. Mungo's. These, unlike the rest of the hospital, did not have the pristine white cleanliness, but, rather, the telltale signs of disrepair and ill use. Like many government buildings, it had plain walls and a rarely cleaned, chipped tiling. A few inspirational posters pockmarked the bulletin boards.

Remus now sat still, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He had once more felt a numbness stealing over him. The details had been sketchy at best. His parents had been afflicted suddenly. Whatever had struck them had come with no warning. The day before, Gregorio's boss had reported him in the clean and energetic, even, health. No one would tell Remus the symptoms, only that they were dire. He had the suspicion that they were sure what they had caught but didn't want to be wrong.

They also wouldn't let him see them. Whatever contagion they had picked up might be contagious, he was told. It left him feeling alone and helpless, despite the onslaught of people speaking with him. He felt himself wishing he could have stayed at Hogwarts. There, at least, he would have friends, friendly faces.

Another solemn-faced Healer approached. Remus expected either a look of concern and laundry list of questions or another form to fill out. He looked up resignedly. This Healer seemed older than most, more lined and care-worn than the average. He had evidently been working for many years. As with all the others – an indication that Remus felt it must be hospital policy – he crouched down to Remus' sitting level before addressing him. He knew that they meant to comfort him, but seeing all of these adults upset their normal positions bothered him somehow.

"Son," said the elder Healer, touching Remus softly on the shoulder, "I have something I have to tell you."

Remus noticed that no one else was around. A prickling feeling rolled up his neck, and he suppressed a shudder. He continued looking straight at the kindly face, as though that edifice were the only thing that could sustain him for the moment of anticipation and worry. He felt he knew what was coming, but longed for that moment of doubt to extend.

"I'm sorry," the Healer said, gently and steadily, "but your parents are dead."

Remus felt a lump catch in his throat. His eyes were beginning to burn. He hadn't blinked and held back the urge to do so now. Blinking would bring tears, and tears would bring a breakdown. He had a question he wanted to ask. His throat would not respond however. His open mouth released a guttural sound only.

The Healer seemed to understand. "They were exposed to Aconic Blight, an affliction that is usually associated with withered Aconite plants from Eastern Europe. Certain strains of the invaluable plant are more susceptible. It shouldn't harm people, usually, unless it is ingested or inhaled in large concentrations, however. That is why it was so difficult to diagnose it. It seemed they were experimenting with the plant. They had some early research by a Damocles Belby on them at the time. He uses it extensively in his Werewolf studies."

That phrase 'Werewolf studies' struck Remus like a thunderbolt. They had died because they wanted to help save him. They had died because of him. He had killed his parents. He lowered his eyes in shame and pain. The Healer continued talking. He spoke soothing words that Remus could not register. Remus had shut down completely. His whole world had stopped and the rest of humankind continued.

Remus forgot everything that followed. They led him through more offices and he filled out more forms. All the while, he was completely mute. A flow of faces and words rolled over him. Somehow, he never completely succumbed to the overwhelming thought. 'The end has come.' The struggle within his mind, the quarrelsome monologues of his various spontaneous thoughts, kept him too busy for the thought to take center stage. He became a collapsing bridge, held aloft only by the raging waters that flowed beneath.

In a flash of forgetfulness, Remus found himself in a Ministry car speeding along the road out of London. The landscape rolled by quickly – too quickly for any regular vehicle. A single driver occupied the seat in front of him. The driver's attention was concentrated fully on the road – he seemed little to notice his passenger. Remus preferred this, as well. More attention at this moment was not necessary.

He and his family had rarely traveled in a car. Only in formal circumstances – to earn a big shipment from some rich Muggle company – had his father ever driven. As such, Remus could not be sure where they were or where they were headed. He thought to ask the driver, but he did not want to distract the man. He could not remember the man's name either, a small thing he would normally have recalled. With this embarrassing truth hanging over him, Remus decided to remain quiet. He would see when they arrived.

He did not have long to wait. The car undoubtedly had had magical enhancements. Remus soon recognized his neighborhood and, almost instantly, his home. The best estimate he had ever received – since distance matters very little when you can disappear and reappear at your destination in moments – was that he lived 250 kilometers from the outskirts of London. They could not have been driving an hour since he had realized they were departing London.

The driver opened his door and held out a hand to help Remus out of the car. Remus realized how weak he felt as he stumbled out of the car. The driver's arm was firm and steady. Neither said a word. The door opened for them upon approach and Remus felt the sudden impact of a familiar body enfold him into a hug. Uncle Kirin! Remus hadn't seen his uncle in a year – his uncle having traveled to the furthest reaches of the planet in search of some dangerous beast or other.

The drive was gone as swiftly as a breeze on a steamy summer afternoon. Remus had had no belongings with him, so there was nothing further to unload. Remus imagined the car flying along the highway towards its next destination. Then, he brushed the thought away and looked at the teary-eyed brother of his mother.

Kirin Scott had always had a kindly face. It appeared more worn and a little more aged than Remus remembered it last. His brown eyes still had that power to lock other eyes onto it. His smile failed to mask the sadness evident all over his face. He had loved his sister and her family dearly. Remus' grandparents had died sometime before, and he had no other uncles or aunts. Standing before him was the last link to the past, the last tie to those whom he had just lost.

The other shoe fell. This thought of finality and of a shrinking world struck him swiftly. He cried into his uncle's shirt. Remus could feel the tears of his uncle fall like a spattering of early raindrops upon his head. The pair of them stood like that, holding each other tightly for a moment in hopes of recapturing a lost something. The door hung open, revealing their sad moment to the empty world before Remus' front door.

An hour of talk past and Remus was alone again. His uncle had received a summons to identify the bodies officially to the Ministry – a formality, of course, but necessary for public record. Remus thought it must be a terrible sight to see if they had not had him do it while he was there. Uncle had said he would be gone an hour, if that. He Disapparated from the backyard. Remus felt the weight of the empty house.

The largeness of every room he walked through diminished his own feelings until they felt like a smoldering pain aching in a spot he could not reach or soothe. The grief and welling sense of guilt over his parents' passing felt numbly remote. His tree appeared several times through the windows – lifeless and sagging – as he made this silent tour of the home.

His uncle had tried to be consoling. His own grief did little to lighten the mood for Remus. For the moment, Remus was actually feeling less than with anyone present. He paused in his own room's doorway. There on the bedside table, where it had sat since he had returned from the hospital from his own near-death moment, the meteorite sat, hard and cold. It remained smooth and blackened from its descent through the atmosphere and sudden impact.

Remus hesitated a moment. With a sudden breath, he walked swiftly over with the deliberateness of someone who dove into deep water for a ring at the bottom of a pond. He snatched up the rock and carried it downstairs. He stepped over the back lawn quickly and reached the tool shed. He seized a couple objects and stuck them in his pocket. The three items clinked as he walked.

The grass felt soft under his unclad feet. A slight breeze had begun to toss the leaves in the trees and ruffle the grassy carpeting. Remus surged onward, determined and hard. He ascended the hill behind the house, crossing between the larger boulders and feeling the rock-firm earth scrape against his bare feet. He didn't even flinch when his large toe struck a smaller rock in its way. His steps grew wet with the slow trickle of blood the scratch had left. He continued.

At the skullcap, the place that witnessed the last true freedom he would ever experience, he halted and placed the rock on the absolute apex of the skull. He glared at that stone with an anger that had built up in the last few years. It, indeed, represented all that had fallen upon him, a flash of fire from the sky, unchanging and faceless. Remus would destroy it, scatter its remains, and banish it from him forever.

With an unpracticed hand, he raised the hammer over the silver-plated chisel and struck. A large chunk of the rock tore away and danced its way down the overturned bowl of rock. With a steadier hand, he struck again, slashing away more of the meteorite. The inside began to reveal itself. The black carbon shelling fell away and a harder, brilliant scarlet gem began to reveal itself.

Blow after blow fell. His strikes could not pierce the inner gem and only ripped away the shell. It was no longer with anger, but with interest, that he increased the ferocity of his attacks. Remus' eyes dazzled as the gem revealed itself. It was thin and dagger-like in shape. The red gem caught the sunlight and refracted a red beam on the face of the rock. The broken pieces of carbon lay forgotten and useless – their precious cargo removed. Their purpose was fulfilled. Remus held the gem in his hand. It was hot from the striking chisel, but he did not mind. It dazzled his eyes like the sun and filled his heart with something he had not felt in some time.

After his descent, Remus bound his bleeding toe and put away the tools. He sat staring at the gem for sometime, wondering at its brilliance and singularity. From such a rough exterior had fallen such a thing as this. All told, it measured about eight centimeters in length and one wide. When he was through looking, he stuck it in his pocket. It was no longer a reminder of the pain of the past, and – therefore – was not left at his bedside.

He still felt the weight of his parents' deaths. That pain would not fade soon. He waited now for his uncle. Any kind face would do. He was ready to cry, heal, and live. The shock was still palpable. He curled up on the couch and closed his eyes. The faces of his parents flashed there before him, faces in happier times from before, not in the sadder ones of present. Remus imagined them playing with him as a child. He saw them laugh and dance as they used to. He saw their gleeful looks as he leapt at presents they had bought him. No sad, tiredness, only life and love remained. Uncle Kirin found him there, curled up and asleep, face covered in tears and a beautiful smile.


	11. Chapter 11: Lost and Found

Remus Lupin followed his fellow students out to the Quidditch Pitch one bright Saturday morning. The match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would decide the Quidditch Cup recipient. Balls, bats, and players would create a symphony of motion, at once jolting and serene. To take in all of the action would require several pairs of eyes and a powerful mind. The mind makes shortcuts, however, leaping from one cluster of activity to another in anticipation of a new event.

Remus had never had a love for flying, yet, he could sense the beauty in this often-vicious sport. James and Sirius, however, reveled in flying. They flew as powerful hunting birds, and they had a synchronous motion in their attacks. Both were Chasers and renowned, though James was better. James took to the air as naturally as anyone Remus had ever seen – and that included International Quidditch champions he had met years before at the behest of his father.

The thought of his father stung Remus sharply. It had been two weeks since his parents had died. He had returned to school a couple of days after their burial – he had begged to go back. At home, all was tiresome and depressing. At school, he had friends and sources of distraction. Studies, themselves, were heating up. In their third year, everyone had taken on a set of new classes, and that meant a new set of exams to prepare for. Remus had picked up Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. The thought of Divination turned his stomach. He didn't need any prophetic readings revealing his secrets.

James, Peter, Sirius, and Lily had attended his parents' funeral. The school had told them when and where. Remus remembered they had come, but could never remember anything that they had said. All he could see were those two closed coffins, snuggly fit upon a stand before him. The coffins were of an inexpensive woodwork. Everything was done hurriedly and cheaply. There was very little money left for such things.

No matter what he did, Remus could not escape the memories. Every thought seemed to link back to their deaths and that terrible moment of realization. His affliction had led to their deaths. He knew, deep down, that he had not killed them. They had acted like the amazing family they were, going well beyond what he would have imagined in attempting to find a cure. They had died in the attempt. It tore him apart – caught between great pride and terrible sadness.

He walked beside Peter on their way into the stadium. James and Sirius had taken to making over-the-top jokes in an attempt to bring him solace and distraction. Lily had engaged him in long talks about his feelings to relieve him of pain. Peter was never sure of how to act around Remus and, therefore, remained largely quiet and watchful around him, as though waiting for him to explode. Remus wondered if these reactions might mirror the ones they would have if they knew his secret. Lily's certainly did.

It was an overcast day and quite windy. A storm was brewing, but would not reach the castle until the next morning. Remus agreed with this general hypothesis. It did not yet smell like rain. The wind was the difficult part. It could blow brooms off course with ease and send the best-aimed throw wildly off the mark. James and Sirius had discussed it at the breakfast table before.

"We'll need more in-close action," James remarked, looking through the ceiling at the blowing leaves and other wind-flung debris. "Short passes and direct goal-shots will certainly help."

"Unfortunately," Sirius answered, "that's where Ravenclaw plays best. Did you see what they did to Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, yes," James responded, "but Hufflepuff couldn't adapt well to that tactic."

Sirius nodded in agreement. "If we can shut down their offense, we can certainly pull in enough scores. Moreover, Soresby is much heavier than their Seeker. He'll have much better balance out there."

"You'll win," Remus had said, suddenly and matter-of-factly. The other two smiled and began their typical pre-match boasting.

The match began. Remus watched, losing track of players and scores quickly, but enjoying every moment of it. The broomsticks spun with dazzling swirls and abrupt cuts in the air. Remus could tell when James had the ball. The Gryffindor crowd would explode with excitement and chant his name. "James! James! James!"

Of course, James' style on the broom was unique. In every match, he found some new trick to astound the fans and confuse the opposing team. This game, James surfed on his broom and leapt over his opponent's head, landing perfectly back on his broom on the other side.

Both teams had had difficulty scoring, early on. Remus heard the score shouted by the announcer after the first half hour and it had reached 20-10 in favor of Gryffindor. Besides the wind factor, both teams had to contend with worthy adversaries. The Beaters on both teams had a knack for driving Chasers off their goal-scoring paths and, occasionally, blocking passes in mid-flight.

It appeared the match would come down to the strength of the Seekers. Both had made fantastic plays of it in their other seasonal matches. They hovered like vultures in the upper limits of the stadium, watching and waiting with patience. The Ravenclaw Seeker did waver more in the updrafts, but not enough to disrupt his search.

Remus saw James and Sirius high-five after a spectacular save on Sirius' part. The air was rent by a loud tweet. All of the players descended to the ground. Remus strained his neck trying to get a good view. Someone had been injured, he had just not seen how.

"It's that Bulby boy," Peter said. "He was struck by a Bludger in the forehead. He needed to watch out."

Sure enough, the referee and Ravenclaw team had surrounded the place where Bulby Spentlek had landed. The Gryffindor team had huddled and was whispering strategy while they waited. The grass on the field continued to roll with the wind, whispering peacefully to any who might hear. However, the crowd was abuzz, taking the break in the action to analyse the match so far.

Near Remus, Peter began talking to the other Gryffindors around them.

"Did you see that catch Sirius made?" he asked, "It was spectacular!"

A fifth year answered, "Yes, we've definitely fielded the best team since I was a first year. That Marcus McPuntic was something. He once scored from beside his own goal posts."

"That was only because the other team was all diving at him at once because of what he said about their mothers," a sixth year said, laughing.

"True, but it worked, now, didn't it?" the fifth year responded.

"Is it true he went on to play for Puddlemore?" Peter asked.

"Yes, it's a shame, really," the sixth year said, sad-faced. "He could have gone anywhere. I remember the rest of the team urged him to join an International League, but he had ties there. He said something about having grown up watching them with his dad."

"He could be up for a trade, I hear," a second year burst in, speaking quickly and nervously. "My dad works in the Magical Games department of the Ministry, and he always hears news like this."

"A trade? At this time of the year? Bullocks," the fifth year shot out.

"Not now," the scared second year replied, "but before next season."

"Before next season, maybe," the fifth answered fairly, "but as they get ready for the Tournament, that would be a terrible move by Puddlemore."

"It's funny how we haven't had anyone from the school move up to any of the big teams in a few years, isn't it?" the sixth year said.

"It's smart," Remus said. Everyone looked at him. He went on, "They're looking for players worth their salt, aren't they? Getting them in on big contracts right out of school? How many of those people suddenly cracked their first year out there? There have been more and more in the last ten years: Tenta, Johaska, and Rolsky. They were brilliant in school, but could not take it in the big league. After the disastrous collapse of Rolsky in the middle of that game, they've been tentative in hiring out of school. They wait, patiently."

"True," said the second year, "My dad said that, too. They had seen more and more injuries and accidents from the new recruits, but those have mostly gone away now."

The sixth year shrugged, "Maybe, but I still say they are going to lose some talent. If our James can't make it in the league, he might go off and do something else. I wouldn't blame him either."

All players resumed flight at the sound of a whistle. The game continued. Both teams had apparently taken the opportunity to tighten up their strategy. The play continued in a harsher, swifter fashion than before. Remus could see the difference in the motion and way in which the players sat upon their brooms. As power surging through a newly switched cord, the activity above the audience increased dramatically.

Remus' mind began to wander. This buzz of activity faded in his mind as the sound of a beehive will dissipate over time. He had received notice that tonight was the next full moon, the first since his parents had passed. His excuse for tonight had been simple. There were always many complicated financial matters to attend to after family died. Besides, no one would bother him this soon after. He was supposed to leave after dinner to meet up with an attorney and his uncle.

The thought of another transformation – and the many to come – depressed him. It added another nail into the coffin of the infinite. He had to continue on this road, this path they could no longer travel. His eyes blurred for a moment. He averted his eyes from the players. Remus could never stand for people to see him cry. Then, he froze. The view before him was eerie.

Hundreds of faces pointed skyward, following the players with their gazes as they whipped backwards and forwards between the hoops. A few had angled lower and higher depending on where the Seekers and Beaters were flying. In this sea of faces, only one he could see did not look up. In the Slytherin section, far across the field, Remus could make out one greasy-haired boy. Severus was glaring across at the Gryffindor side, but not as the other Slytherins had done before the game and during the time-out. No, he was glaring specifically at one person.

Remus' eyes had dried in his curiosity. He watched the angle of Severus' eyes, and it was not at Peter or himself that they gazed. Twenty feet to his left sat Lily and her friends. They, like the rest of Gryffindor, were facing skyward, pointing and crying in surprise and excitement. It was into this cluster that Severus threw such an ugly look. Remus was surprised. Severus had always seemed to fawn about Lily, to say the least. Where had this anger come from?

Could she have told him off for the potion swiping? Had they fought about it? Was he jealous because of James and his heroic moment? What was it that Severus wanted? Remus did not have long to wonder about it. Severus looked down at something out of sight, stood, and abruptly slipped out of his row. Remus' curiosity increased. He stood up, whispering, "I'll be right back," to Peter, who only nodded distractedly in response.

Remus slipped out of the stadium quickly. Ahead he could see Severus' cloak flutter in the high wind. Like a bat in flight, Severus hurriedly retreated towards the castle. Remus waited until he passed around the bend towards the front of the castle before following. He sprinted, nearly tripping on the hem of his robe. In a moment, sweating and hot, he could see the Entrance doorway; it was just shutting behind Severus. In another instant, he crossed the threshold himself, but no one was in sight.

Pulling out his wand, he muttered, "_Hominem Revelio_," hoping that it would work. In a place as large as Hogwarts, it might reveal people within a floor or two of him, if he were lucky. There! Two flights up the Grand Staircase, a form was running upwards. Remus pursued him. Severus was up to something, and Remus wanted to know what. He had been acting very oddly. Remus was afraid there could be some mischief at work.

On every landing, he repeated his spell, sensing the form continuing to rise until it stopped on the seventh floor and passed along down a hallway. Remus followed until he felt the form disappear entirely. 'The devil!' Remus thought. How could he have disappeared entirely? He crossed over to the last hallway he had sensed Severus on and saw an unusual door in a place there had never been one before.

The door was cracked, as though those within expected more visitors. Remus used his spell again, but could not feel anyone behind him or within a few floors. This room had obviously had protective charms placed upon it to disguise anyone within. His curiosity growing, Remus crept up to the doorway and positioned himself near enough to hear within without being seen or heard.

"Welcome, Severus!" a voice Remus did not recognize said. "Wallace has told us very good things about you."

" Has he?" Severus' drawling voice asked.

"Yes," the voice continued. "As your prefect, he has had a great deal of time to learn about you and your … interests."

"I see," Severus answered quietly.

"I do not know what he has told you, so far," the voice began.

Wallace, whom Remus now recognized as a Slytherin sixth year prefect, interrupted, saying, "Very little, sir. As you know, we have to be careful about all of this."

"Of course, discretion is important," the voice continued, "and I trust you will be discrete about this meeting, Severus?"

"Yes."

"We are still expecting a couple others," the voice explained, "but they should be along shortly. But please, have a seat."

After the sound of a chair scooting across a tile floor, it grew quiet. Wallace broke the silence with a statement. "I hear He is doing well with recruiting from Durmstrang, sir."

"Quiet!" the voice cried. "We have asked our young friend here to gauge his interest, not initiate him outright. There must always be room to adjust, don't you agree, Severus?"

"Yes," Severus answered, shortly.

Remus had a sudden chill creep down the nape of his neck, and he turned. A loud crack echoed in the hollow of his mind and he was long gone.

The Quidditch match had ended quickly after the timeout, and Gryffindor's Seeker, Belby, had snatched the Snitch out from beneath Slytherin's for the victory. Gryffindor had won the match and the Quidditch Cup! The celebration rolled on for hours, from early afternoon into the night. The only damper on the festivities for two of the Quidditch stars was the location of their friend, Remus. He had disappeared, according to Peter, during the match, saying he would return soon, but had never done so.

Peter, for his part, had thought Remus was going to speak with someone in another house. In the chaotic aftermath of the victory, it was at least an hour before anyone could tell he had completely disappeared. The trio of friends asked about the Gryffindor common room, but no one had seen Remus for hours.

"Maybe he's off getting us some Butterbeer?" one suggested.

"He's probably in the library, I tell you," a seventh year laughed.

'I'm worried,' Lily thought.

She alone, in the tower, knew this was another full moon, another night of transformation. She also knew his cover story, and suggested that he may have had to depart more suddenly. Lily left the tower, however, abandoning the celebration to find a professor. It was late in the afternoon. The full moon would rise in an hour, at most.

Descending the Stairs quickly, she headed towards the staff room, when she ran headlong into Professor Slughorn and they both tumbled.

"Oof, Lily?" Slughorn called out. "Where are you in such a hurry to? Isn't the celebration the other way?"

Lily attempted to catch her breath stammering, "Yes…Professor... It's….Remus…he's…disappeared!"

"What?" Slughorn asked, as though waiting for the punch line. "What do you mean disappeared?"

"No one has seen him since the match," she said. "I'm worried. He's still upset because of his parents, and tonight's the full moon."

"Tonight's what?" he asked, dumbfounded. "How do you…?"

Lily set her face, "Er…he told me." It was as close to a lie as she could get. To tell a professor that Remus had nearly killed her a couple years back would get both her and him in trouble. She _had_ been wandering about on the grounds at night.

"Well," Slughorn said, getting over his surprise and looking at Lily in a different light. "I'm glad he has confided in close friends." He grew more serious, "But it is vital that we find him. Lives could be at stake. Werewolves are incredibly dangerous transformed and we have hundreds of students at risk."

"Should we search the castle?" Lily suggested.

"Yes…yes," he answered, distractedly. "I will round up the professors and look for him. The grounds, yes, the grounds, too, must be searched."

"What can I do?" she asked, looking determined.

"You?" he asked, seeing her again, suddenly. "You need to get back up to the common room and stay there. Keep anyone from leaving. You don't know the danger that could await you in a lone corridor now."

"But, he's my friend!" she cried. "I want to help find him, if I can!"

"I'm sorry, Lily," he answered, "it is too dangerous."

"But he might listen to -" she began.

"If he isn't transformed, any of us could bring him to the shack," he said swiftly, eyes alight, "but transformed he will not know you. He would as much as tear you apart as look at you. Transformed he is a monster of great power."

Lily tried to speak again, but he cut her off, "I'm sorry, that's all I have to say on the matter. If you keep the Gryffindor Tower safe, that will be a great help to us."

Lily pursed her lips, but said nothing. Slughorn dashed back the way he had come, displaying less reserve than he had when he had spoken to her. She watched him enter the Teacher's Lounge, and heard a series of raised voices. Realizing that she should not wait for them to come out, Lily turned and passed quickly down the hallway. Where could Remus have gone? Why?

She decided, after a few minutes of wandering, that another quick search of the Gryffindor Tower could prove useful. Maybe he left something in his room that gave an indication of his intent. The last time he had disappeared, no one had heard his parents died until two days later. There had been rumors that he was sick, but nothing even close to the truth. Maybe there was a letter, a note, or some sign.

Clinging to this faint piece of hope, she ascended the tower and, slipping quietly through the continuing party, found herself in the Remus and his friends' room. Someone had draped Sirius and James' beds with enormous wads of red and gold colored toilet paper – obviously enchanted to dance whenever anyone approached.

While the toilet paper danced happily, Lily searched around Remus' bed. There was nothing out of place. He was very tidy compared to his fellow roommates. It only took a few seconds for her to realize there was nothing here. She left the room and walked down the stairs. Halfway down the stairwell, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into the doorway of another dorm.

Lily stifled a cry when she saw it was Remus' friend, Peter. He looked around the corners of the stairwell, as though checking for anyone watching.

"Do you know where Remus is?" he asked. Lily could see the concern in his face.

"No," she answered, "and I'm a bit worried. It is getting late."

Peter looked down, a little disappointed. "I…I feel like it's my fault. He left me at the stadium during the match…and…well, you know how upset he's been since…"

"I understand," Lily said. "Did he say where he was going?"

"No," Peter said, "and he never disappears like this. He always tells us what's going on."

"I know," Lily said. "He definitely isn't in the tower, but I found Professor Slughorn, and the staff will be looking for him."

"Oh, good," Peter said, looking a little more relieved. "I'm sure they'll find him soon."

"Yes," Lily said, instilling confidence into her voice, "They know this castle better than anyone."

They descended the stairs together and entered the party. There was an immediate feeling of dejection about them. Lily asked a friend what had happened.

"James and Sirius left the party!" the girl cried. "Why did they go?"

Another answered, "They said they needed to find their friend, Remus."

Lily's eyes widened. Peter had wandered off to a corner and was chatting happily about the match with someone. The promise of professors searching for Remus seemed to have alleviated his fears. Lily's were only beginning. James and Sirius had no idea what they would find out there.

Lily, without a moment to spare, flew through the portal, wand in hand. The sun had descended and the torches alone lit the hallways beyond. The moon had yet to rise, but would very shortly. Lily's mind began to repeat a mantra of need. 'I must find Remus before the moon rises. I must save him from himself. I must find him before his friends do.'

She flew around the school, wand lit and before her, crossing and crisscrossing the hallways and stairwells. Lily was surprised to find no professors. She found no one, in fact, from tower to dungeon. With so many people searching, she had feared they would find her quickly and send her back to the common room.

At one moment, she realized that she had passed by this one stretch of wall three times, at least. Her mind was so distracted, boring into her skull the need to find Remus that she had not seen where she was wandering. With a shock, she found that the wall on one side had changed into a door. Halting, she looked at it as if seeing a phantom. The door, large and impressive, remained.

With trepidation, Lily approached the door and pushed it open. A wide-open room appeared. It was bare but for a handful of chairs set in a circle. There! Outside of the circle was a bound figure. Remus! How had he landed in this strange room?

Lily didn't care. They could only have moments before the transformation. Now that she had found him, what should she do? They would take twenty minutes or more to reach the shack from here. She dove to his side and began to shake him. He would not stir. He appeared to be stupefied. "_Finite_," she pronounced, lifting the spells upon him.

He shook and his eyes rolled back into place. He coughed a small drop of blood from his mouth. "Lily?" he asked. "Where -?" Lily could see a lump on his head. It looked as though someone had struck him from behind.

Lily shook her head, saying, "We must hurry. The sun has set."

Remus' eyes widened in fear. "Oh, God! I'm still in the castle. You should go! Run! Seal the door if you can!" he shouted.

Just then, the door opened fully. James and Sirius entered. "I heard shouting," James was saying, "Remus! What happened?"

Lily and Remus froze like statues. Remus could not find words. Lily did what she could, "We have to go, now!" She leapt up and grabbed Sirius and James' hands.

"What?" James asked, confused. "We can't leave him like this!"

Sirius shook her off, moved to Remus' side, and began to unwind the rope that tied Remus' hands to his side. James stepped between Lily and Remus. "What are you doing here?" he asked, looking suspicious. "Why do you want to leave him there?"

She cried, "We're all in danger! We need to run!"

"Danger?" James said, nonplussed. "How are we -?"

He never had a moment to finish his question. Sirius had cried out and jumped away from Remus' side. They could all see it happening, now. Remus' eyes had contracted and his face was stretching. His whole body had contracted like a seizing muscle and he began to twitch. Lily grabbed the shocked Sirius and James, pulling them towards the door.

They had just reached the doorway when it was complete. A hairy beast lay where Remus had moments ago. He remained bound, but the growl shook the three of them to the core. It looked at them hungrily, and even Lily froze in fear. With an effortless flex, the beast had broken its bindings and stood, tall and terrible.

James and Sirius' wands came to a little below level, but their faces reflected the terror of the moment. They had no idea what to do. Lily's wand was at her side. She could not think at all. The monster stood before them, confident and hungry. Their smell enticed it and drove it to a frenzy. It salivated and watched them for a moment – savoring the instant before the kill.

Lily knew it was over. There was nothing to do. No spell was effective in halting such a beast. She had read up on it. The creatures had incredibly defensive skin and no specific weakness, magically. Only silver could stop them, but even should she have the skill to conjure it, to use it would kill Remus. She waited, terrified, but resigned to feel the jaws close on her flesh.

Sirius and James began yelling, shouting at the creature. It hesitated, watching them with those deadly, yellow eyes. The two bellowing flies before it was a decided change. The hesitation was only for an instant. Then, it leapt with hatred at James. The claws rent the air. All three of the students felt a massive force behind them and were pulled aggressively backwards into the corridor outside. They hit the wall with a painful force and fell to the floor.

As Lily's eyes faded into unconsciousness, she saw brilliant silvery robes and hair flying between them and the doorway. Then, all was blackness and forgetfulness.


	12. Chapter 12: In the Wing

The storm struck in the early hours of the morning. Every surface of the castle and grounds were soon coated with flowing rivulets of water. The sky hovered ominously, starkly contrasted between the black clouds and blinding flashes of lightning. The darkness dominated but tempered by the violence of the bolts.

The creatures of the forest had retreated to the deeper cover, sensing the powerful weather hours before it struck. The Whomping Willow, on the other hand, welcomed the storm with open branches, catching and funneling the water towards its base. The denizens of the castle neither shrank nor leapt for joy with the weather. Most did not notice it at all. Those who did watched the sheets of rain tumble down their windows before rolling over in the comfort and warmth of their dormitory sheets.

At nine in the morning, as the sun began to pierce the distant clouds and brighten the dismal morning, the storm abated. It continued to drip sporadically, and a few flashes in the far distance held the last remnants of rain. However, when the first students began to arise, all that remained to tell the tale were windblown trees, departing clouds, and a world painted in water.

As it was Sunday, and no one had classes or much inspiration to move before a certain hour, there was a quiet stillness throughout the corridors and towers. One of the first to stir was the young nurse of the school's hospital. Ms. Pomfrey had had a difficult day or so. Besides the usual Quidditch injuries, they had had an incident during the night, which had brought her more trouble than she had expected.

On any given full moon, she expected a worn and beaten Remus to arrive at an early morning hour, fresh from a night alone in the Shrieking Shack. Tonight, well, this had not been a normal evening. For one, she had not escorted Remus to the Shack in the evening. Instead, she and the staff had searched the school from top to bottom, striving to find him before it was too late. They had failed in that. Now, here they were.

Ms. Pomfrey carried a bowl of water and a hand towel to the side of a figure in bed. She dipped the cloth into the liquid and, lifting it, wrung it out. She patted the forehead, gingerly. The lines on the young man's forehead were etched as the crags in a mountain wall. He remained incredibly tense despite the rest and care he had received.

He stirred, opening his eyes weakly. Ms. Pomfrey walked around him, so that he would see her right side up. She shushed him before he could speak or utter a question. She could hardly keep straight what all had occurred. It was doubtful that any of them would be able to.

He struggled for a moment, as though fighting for a word to speak, but his eyes grew heavy once more and he drifted back into sleep. She patted his forehead with the moistened towel, picking up the beads of sweat that had appeared there. Ms. Pomfrey knew one thing, at least. She would be happy when this was all behind them.

Remus awoke, exhausted but peaceful, on Sunday afternoon. He saw the familiar shapes of the ceiling panels in the hospital. Considering his latest transformation, he felt rather refreshed. Remus could not remember much from the night before, but that wasn't entirely unusual. He often forgot parts of the evening before his transformation. The stress of the moment often overshadowed everything else.

He had lasted another night – one of hundreds left to him, doubtless. Remus sat up, determined to stretch his legs for a moment. If he didn't, he knew it would take longer for his limbs to feel normal. Ms. Pomfrey was there, tending to the spreading of fresh linens on a bed two down from him. Remus could see the nearest tower, reflecting the late afternoon sun. It gleamed with a sparkling wetness. The rainwater had clung to the outer brickwork as a protective covering.

From his perspective, Remus could not see the grounds where a group of students had dared the wetness to enjoy the last moments of weekend before the exam preparation kicked into full force. Many of their peers had retreated to the library and the recesses of the Common Rooms already. He could not know about this, however. All he saw was the room about him and one tower beyond.

No one else was in the hospital wing. This was not unusual. Ms. Pomfrey did what she could to ensure he had privacy during his recovery time. If any other students came to the hospital wing, she would enclose him in bed hangings. He would remain quiet and wait for the students to come and go.

Ms. Pomfrey heard him sit up. She turned her head in his direction while he stood up. He limped around for a moment, holding tightly onto the side of the bed. Then, grunting with exhaustion, he collapsed back onto the sheets. The nurse finished tossing the pillow, flicking her wand to give it just the last shake before setting it neatly in place.

She crossed the space between them, and looked down on his face. His eyes had closed and his breathing grew heavy. The strain of so much activity this soon after a transformation was always difficult. Still, she waited. He opened his eyes a moment later, and she could see them lock onto hers. He didn't smile, but his face showed an appreciation of her efforts.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Tired," he muttered. "Can't remember much."

"I would expect not," she said, calmly. "It was quite a night. There was a storm and all."

"Yes," he said, flopping his head towards the window. "I saw."

"Did you see the Quidditch match?" she asked, tentatively.

"Er – yes," Remus replied, scrunching his face confusedly. "I remember the match. They had a timeout. Someone on the Ravenclaw team was injured and they had to stop for a moment. I remember they continued, but after that…I forget."

Ms. Pomfrey looked a little concerned, but smiled when she told him, "Gryffindor won. 220-50. There were only a couple injuries in the match, much better than most of the final matches we've seen in the last few years. I can remember last year we had half of one team in the wing for a week."

Remus watched her speak, silently. He was puzzling over something. When she had finished, he asked, "When did the match end?"

"About one, if I remember correctly," she answered, pensively. "It was soon after I patched up Bulby, actually."

"What happened?" he asked, not really addressing her.

She answered, "There was only one other goal to Gryffindor before their Seeker caught the Snitch. I'm sure your classmates will tell you more about it."

"A door in a hallway…?" Remus muttered abstractly. "Was that a dream? Where was I?"

Ms. Pomfrey listened, intently. She did not speak, but watched him as her hand rubbed a spot on her left cheek.

"Blankness, and then…" he continued straining his eyes as though to pierce a dense fog before him. "Lily? I was on the floor. What does it mean?"

"James? Sirius? Darkness… Nothingness. Why is it all so cloudy?" he asked.

Suddenly seeing Ms. Pomfrey again, he gave her a querulous look. "Dreams?" he said. "I never had dreams during my other transformations. Did I sleep after the match? Why is my memory spotty?"

"I…I don't know," she answered, uncertain. "I think all of us would like to know."

"Why? What happened?" Remus asked. "The castle!" he cried as though he had suddenly seen a decisive image. "Did I transform in the castle? Oh, God, I did, didn't I?"

Ms. Pomfrey neither affirmed nor denied it. She stepped back and held her hand over her mouth. Remus sat up; face angry and demanding at once. "What happened? Was anyone hurt? Why won't you tell me?"

"I believe, I can answer some of those questions," a solemn voice floated over to the pair. "As for why you transformed in the castle, we can only give you a partial explanation, but hopefully you can help us fill in the gaps."

Remus turned, seeing Dumbledore approach. This break in his focus and concentration allowed the exhaustion to take hold. He fell back on the bed and coughed in pain. His side burned with a sudden cramp. Remus' eyes watered a little, but he strained to look in the direction of his Headmaster. Pain could wait; answers could not.

Dumbledore conjured a chair for himself and Ms. Pomfrey and set them beside the bed on the side easiest for Remus to turn towards. Remus rolled slightly and faced them sideways. When everyone had settled, Dumbledore began to speak.

"We do not know the circumstances of it all, but from what we have learned, you disappeared from the match, telling your friend Mr. Pettigrew you would return soon. No one saw you for hours. Ms. Evans alerted the teachers that you had gone missing. As the full moon was approaching, we all searched the castle as well we could.

"It was your friend, Ms. Evans, who found you. She had heard that James and Sirius had left the Common Room to search for you and wanted to find you first. Despite our warnings, she had gone to find you, a noble act, indeed, and worthy of a Gryffindor. However, it was incredibly dangerous.

"When she found you, it was in a room none of the staff knew about, an interesting room, indeed, that had appeared on the seventh floor. You were bound and had that stylish lump on your forehead." Here Dumbledore pointed to Remus' forehead. Remus felt where the finger pointed, and could feel a painful lump.

"She revived you and –"

"Oh!" Remus cried, lowering his hand, "I remember! I told her to leave, but Sirius and James appeared. After that, it gets hazy, again."

"You transformed before they could leave."

Remus' face whitened with fear.

"Fortunately," Dumbledore said, patting his hand, "I was in the vicinity, and removed them from the way. They are none the worse for the wear than a few bumps and bruises from – I'm afraid – my own spell. With no one else in the room, I was able to seal it while you were transformed.

"The only part, however," Dumbledore said with sternness, "that we don't understand is what happened before."

"I – I don't remember," stammered Remus. "I tried, but it is hazy."

"If you will allow me," Dumbledore said, "and if Ms. Pomfrey will permit, I may be able to help."

"How?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore smiled at him, calmly. "We may be able to walk through your memory, what there is of it. That could give us hints at what had happened."

"Yes," Remus answered. "If you can, please, I want to remember."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "I expected no less."

He turned, pulling a table up beside them. On it, he conjured a large bowl. The inside glowed with a playful, blue light. "An old friend of mine lent this to me recently. It is a Pensieve, Mr. Lupin."

Remus' eyes glowed with interest. He forgot for a moment that it was for a horrifying night in which he had nearly killed his friends that he saw this. It was such a beautiful and rare object. Only a few people on the planet owned one. "Is – is this Mr. Flamel's?" he asked.

"Nothing gets by, you does it?" Dumbledore answered chuckling. "Yes, this belongs to my friend, Nicholas. I assume you know what it is used for, then?"

Remus nodded, his eyes were locked on the intricate carvings around the edges. He had never seen one before, and it stood near the famed Gubrathian Fire in a list of fantastical objects he had longed to know more about. Dumbledore smiled as Remus looked with awe on this object.

"Now," Dumbledore said, "I will extract the memory, but I need your help. You need to focus hard upon the memory. Think about the Quidditch match and the last things you remember before it darkens."

Remus closed his eyes and concentrated. He could see the world about him clearly, the players clustered together discussing strategy, the fans, including Peter, jabbering happily about the match, and the pitch, brightly lit and covered in rustling, wind-blown grass. As he held onto this memory for a moment, he felt a cold tap on his forehead and everything about the memory seemed to stretch and compress, as though a film was being tugged harshly.

"I have it," came Dumbledore's voice, cutting through Remus' memory as it settled back into normalcy. Remus opened his eyes again. Dumbledore was looking down into the Pensieve. Looking into the swirling depths, Remus could see a bright silvery light that spun swiftly in a form that seemed like a pattern but was just random enough to make it difficult to distinguish. That was his memory.

"Mr. Lupin, would you like to see your memory with me?" Dumbledore asked. "Two pairs of eyes are often better than one."

Remus asked, "What could I see that I do not in my own mind?"

" Many things, potentially," Dumbledore responded. "With a Pensieve, you see from without yourself. Obvious things from without may not be seen from within. In fact, I once found a sock I was missing with the help of a Pensieve. I had rather knocked it behind a shelf carelessly. I was most fortunate to retrieve it."

Remus nodded. "Yes, I will come with you."

"Headmaster!" Ms. Pomfrey, so far quiet, broke in. "I must protest. This boy has been through quite a lot in the last day. He needs to rest. Speaking with him is one thing, Headmaster, but I cannot let you take him anywhere. He must rest."

Dumbledore seemed to consider for a moment. His nurse had gone red in the face, half-exasperated by the Headmaster's actions, half scared by her own daring in speaking to him so. Remus, for his part, waited. The longer he sat up, the more he felt he might collapse again. The invisible strings of curiosity and fear held up his body.

In the last few minutes he had learned that the previous night, for reasons he could no longer remember, he had transformed in the castle, nearly killed his friends – or worse, subjected them to the same life he had –, and by the grace of chance alone been held at bay. Remus felt that familiar pang of worry. He had learned all this and it had done so little to him. He did not collapse from sadness or despair. He did not revile himself as he once might have. This condition, this monstrosity of a life, had changed him so much from his old self. What else had he lost in all of it?

Dumbledore leveled his eyes, clearly and calmly at Ms. Pomfrey. Despite his relaxed manner, she still moved back a step. Dumbledore's very presence created a reverence in the people about him. His direct gaze was powerful. He spoke kindly, however. "Poppy, I assure you, he will not leave this bed. Your patient will be quite at hand. I only ask your leniency for a moment in this. He will enter his memory with me, only. Then, I will leave him to your care with no disturbances."

Ms. Pomfrey looked at him as though on the verge of continuing her protest, but she let it go, "Alright, Headmaster, but if he feels at all unwell, I want him out of that thing, immediately."

"Of course, Poppy, thank you."

Dumbledore turned his attention towards Remus. "Now, simply touch the liquid's surface and we shall see what your dream has to offer."

Remus complied, hesitating when his hand was just above the liquid. It felt like there was a great coolness just beneath his fingers, as he had felt when about to dip his toe into a cool pond. When his finger crossed into the liquid, however, it was warm and welcoming. The world whirred by and he felt himself fall flat on his bum in the aisle of the Quidditch Stadium. Dumbledore landed beside him, spryly on his feet.

Remus accepted his hand up, and pointed over to where he and Peter were seated. As he had seen in his memory moments before, everyone was busily chatting about the match. Dumbledore did not say anything, but watched Remus and those about him with a curious eye. Remus looked elsewhere, eyes falling on the Quidditch players and other clusters of Gryffindor students. Everything looked normal. The players were mounting their brooms and taking off.

Everything faded to black and Remus fell back into the bed. Ms. Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and the Pensieve all stood in the same place they had been before. Dumbledore looked pensive. For all Remus had seen, there had been nothing out of the ordinary. It had been a very brief memory.

Ms. Pomfrey quickly took advantage of the pause. "Headmaster, I must ask that we let Mr. Lupin rest. He has been far overexerting himself in the day after a Transformation. I'm already afraid he may extend his hospital wing stay for it."

Dumbledore looked up at his staff member, her hands on her hips and eyebrows knitted. He nodded. Turning to Remus, he said, "Do not trouble yourself over this for now. No one was hurt. Take comfort in that. Get some rest."

With that, he swept away with the Pensieve, a troubled look breaking out across his face as he walked. The wing doors closed behind him, silently. Ms. Pomfrey was immediately at his side, "Drink this," she said, offering him a bottle of some foul-smelling substance. "It will help you sleep."

With a single swig, Remus felt his head grow heavy and he slept. His dreams were a mixture of peaceful scenes – sitting calmly in a deserted meadow – and terrifying images of attacking students in the common room with clawed hands. Suddenly, and with the echoing sound of a cannon firing, he awoke. Remus could not tell how long he slept. It was dark and Ms. Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen.

Very little light trickled in from the window, reflected glimmers of distant stars and the waning moon. The room appeared as a great shadow covered in minor lighter blemishes that caught and held the smallest piece of light stubbornly. The silence around him was uncanny. At night, even the latest hours, there were always sounds throughout the Gryffindor Tower. Here, no one slept within a floor or two of him, aside from Ms. Pomfrey. She, however, he had seen, slept with no sound at all. How she accomplished this feat was beyond him; however, it did prevent her from disturbing sleeping patients.

Creak. Remus heard it. Someone had opened a door nearby. There was no closing click. He looked towards the door, but the darkness was so complete that he could not even make out the beds between him and the door. A voice spoke, as quietly as possible, "_Muffliato_."

"_Lumos_," came a second voice, louder than the previous. Light flooded the room. For a moment, all Remus could see was that blinding beam of light. As his eyes adjusted, he could see three forms standing around the light, facing him. They approached. He felt for his wand, but could not reach it in time. He braced for an attack. Surely those responsible for all of this were back to silence him!

"That is a handy spell," the shadow on the left said. "Muffling our sound so Pomfrey doesn't hear."

"Yeah, I'm glad I saw Snivellus use it in Charms," the second, now familiar voice answered. "He does have his usefulness, now and again."

"Sirius?" Remus asked, "Is that … you?"

"Who were you expecting?" Sirius asked, lighting his wand with a flick, "Babbity Rabbity?"

"Or her Babbling Stump?" James continued as if it were a single sentence.

Peter laughed.

"Something like that," Remus responded with a weak smile.

"Sorry to wake you," James said, "but she wouldn't let us bug you during the day."

"Yes," Sirius said, "I'm quite sure she'd prefer we woke you at night."

An awkward silence followed this. Remus was glad to see them; glad, indeed, that they would come to visit him after what had happened, but he could not think of how to broach the subject. It still hung like a heavy weight over his heart. He found himself hoping that they would speak first, but they did not. They sat there with concerned faces looking down at him. Each had lit his wand to provide enough illumination for the four of them to see within a small bubble of space. The world beyond bore the fading shadows at the edge of true darkness. It was an isolating feeling.

Remus spoke first, "About yesterday…"

"Don't worry about it, mate," James said. "We're fine. Lily's fine."

"I know," Remus said, "Dumbledore told me, but- but I should have told you before."

"Yes," Sirius said, "we'll agree there, you great prat." He said it playfully, but it still hurt Remus to hear it.

"It's just…hard," Remus said, "after everything that has happened, all the people who have been harmed by it. I…I…people look at me differently when they know. People speak about it in dark corners, throwing me looks. They even talk about me as if I wasn't present, like a disease that cannot respond to them. My best mate's family moved away. He was at Hogwarts and they moved him to Durmstrang because I was coming here. People change after they find out. I don't know if you can understand. None of you have something like this hanging about you."

He went on, "My father's business failed because no one would buy from him anymore. No one wants to buy from someone affiliated with…someone like me. My parents lost everything because of me. And now…now they're…"

His eyes grew sharp as he fought tears that had lain dormant. He closed his eyes and grimaced with the effort. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that his friends still watched him, apparently waiting for him to finish. He braced himself again.

"It killed them, you know? They did what any parent would, more in fact. They fought for a cure. They died trying to make one." He hadn't even told Lily this part yet. He just felt that he couldn't bear to break that out into the open, but it burst from him now, as though he had needed to tell it. "They died because of me."

"No," James said suddenly, aggressively. "You can't blame yourself for that, mate. They died to help you, not to give you more pain."

Remus brushed it off, "Everything falls apart around me. I nearly killed Lily before she found out. I nearly killed you two last night," he nodded towards Sirius and James. "It seems no matter what I do, someone is hurt."

Remus realized he was sitting up in his bed. He could not remember moving since his friends had entered. His fists were clenches on the sheets tightly, and he could feel a trickle of sweat creeping down his back.

"Mate," Sirius said, "You're right. We don't know what it's like. But it can't help to keep it bottled up like this."

"We don't hate you for knowing," Sirius said, reassuringly, "It would have been nice to know before we started looking for you in the middle of the evening of a full moon, but we'll find a way to forgive you that one."

"Yeah," James chimed in, "Most of Sirius' family was in Slytherin, but we all found a way to accept him."

Sirius gave James a look and they fought the urge to laugh.

Peter gave Remus a serious look that reminded him of their first day at Hogwarts, "We're all mates here," he said, "If you can't trust us, whom can you trust?"

"Thanks, guys," Remus said, relieved at their reactions. "It helps to know."

"So," James continued, "Why were you up in the castle? Where did you go? No one seems to know what happened – or the staff just aren't telling."

Remus looked at him. "I don't know," he answered, "I can't remember. There is this blank period in my memory between sitting in the stands watching you two and waking up in that room where Lily found me. Dumbledore couldn't even work it out with his Pensieve."

"Pen-what?" Peter asked.

"Pensieve," Remus answered, "It helps you sort through memories, relive them with greater perspective. Dumbledore borrowed it from his friend, Flamel."

"Maybe someone altered your memory," Sirius said.

"That's what Dumbledore thinks," Remus said. "I wonder if it has something to do with the fire."

"It's certainly a mystery," Peter chimed in. "You just left the match suddenly."

"Dumbledore and I looked at what I could remember of the match, but there was just nothing there," Remus explained. "I didn't move and no one approached us. The teams were still out on the field waiting for the break to end."

James, Sirius, and Peter considered this for a moment.

A noise sounded from the adjacent room. Ms. Pomfrey! The other three looked at each other, extinguished their lights and disappeared into the darkness. Not a moment had passed after they closed the door before the school nurse came out of her room. Remus had lain down and closed his eyes. His breathing was a little more hurried than usual, but he tried to calm it. She stood over him with her wand dimly lit, looking around the room as though seeking something out of place. Apparently convinced she had been imagining things, she turned, walked through the door, and shut it quietly.

Again, silence prevailed. Remus could not see anything. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. It had been a long day, broken by bouts of sleep and unconsciousness, but he still felt the exhaustion. His entire body sagged deeply into the comfortable mattress. The great mystery was still unanswered, but Remus slept well knowing he had his friends. If he had nothing else, he had his friends.


	13. Chapter 13: Suspicions and the Truth

Only a few days before exams began, on June 1 of their sixth year, Remus had another monthly transformation. As terrible as that is, it surpassed the mess of the previous year. The Ordinary Wizarding Levels (O.W.L.s) had fallen right about the Full Moon. Luckily, most of his exams occurred in advance – as distracted as he was, he could still take them. He missed one exam and its practical part entirely for the illness.

With Dumbledore's urging, the Ministry allowed Remus to take a personal make-up exam the following day. He slept for two full days following. This year, he would go into the exams a little tired. Remus felt prepared, however. It had been a relatively uneventful year. If you didn't count Severus - who unrestrainedly attacked the four of them whenever there was no Professor watching - everything had been calm.

Lily and Severus had had a falling out at the end of the last year. She would never talk to Remus about it whenever he broached the subject. He suspected it happened after Severus called her a Mudblood, but she would never say. Remus still could see nothing particularly bad about him. He was unkind, but there must be a reason. If he had learned nothing else, Remus had learned from his experiences that there was always a reason for people to act the way they did.

Remus could feel that familiar tension growing in the common room leading up to the exams. Fifth and Seventh years, particularly, were feeling the strain as their exams determined their career possibilities. Remus always had thought it a little disheartening how much importance exams had on what Hogwarts students could do in life. Not everyone was a test taker. Look at the Bones brothers, they were brilliant in their magic making and creativity – often they would join up with Remus and his friends in some grand scheme or other – but they could not take tests to save their lives. Granted, they were only a first and third year at this point, but it could seriously affect their later placement.

He, James, and Sirius had nothing to worry about on that front. Even Peter could get by. He was taking only the core courses for his N.E.W.T.s, but he had satisfied the requirements for all of them. Remus had other worries about life after school, but that was unimportant. James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily had made his time at Hogwarts more of a dream than he had ever imagined.

James' family had taken him in during the previous summer while his uncle traveled on business. They had erected a concealed and soundproofed shed for his transformation. Remus had never known such kindness from complete strangers. They had welcomed him like a son, and Sirius, too, for a time. Sirius' home life was strained in a way that Remus could not imagine. Lily and Remus sent owls to each other throughout the summer, which seemed to irritate James a little, though he played it off well.

This summer, however, his Uncle Kirin would be back in the country. Remus would be glad to see him; though, Uncle Kirin was neither as fun nor lively as James and his family. He didn't want to be a bother to the Potters in any case. They had done more than enough for him the year before. His uncle had promised they would have fun. They were going to visit the Magical places throughout the Continent.

The most amazing thing had happened in the middle of their fifth year, and one that still astounded Remus. James, Sirius, and Peter had managed to become Animagi. The most incredible part is that they had done it without letting him know about it. There were very few Animagi in the world, and none as young as these three. It was a surprise for his sixteenth birthday – delivered a little early for the previous month's transformation. In this way, they could be with him when he transformed, but safe, as well. They would wrestle with him in their animal forms, and they had even managed to take him around the grounds several times. It was frightfully dangerous, but they enjoyed the thrill of it.

After the terrible things he had faced in his earlier years, Remus finally felt completely at home at Hogwarts. Even in summer, he had these friends but an owl's flight away.

As much as his life had lightened, so much had the outside world darkened. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the loose with his henchmen, no one felt quite as safe as they had before. That was one reason, Remus was sure, that he and his uncle would be away from England that summer. The Dark Wizard's clan was growing secretly, but in a certain secret way where everyone knows it is happening.

People who openly spoke out against him or called up for raids and increased Ministry efforts had a way of disappearing suddenly. Even a few important Ministry officials unexpectedly had "accidents" while out on family vacations. If the Ministry did one thing well, it was miscommunication. The Ministry blamed attacks on everything but the source of them – most recently, and to Remus' chagrin, werewolves. A little scapegoating could severely harm his ability to get a job after Hogwarts. Remus tried not to think about it, too much.

It did seem true, however, that the werewolves were somehow involved in the Dark Wizard's actions. Known Werewolf and Profiteer, Fenrir Greyback had vocally declared war on the "non-werewolves" of England. The Ministry could not touch him. His connections ran deep within the Ministry and his sources of money were difficult to understand. This frequently seemed the case with many suspected accomplices of the Dark Wizard.

Hogwarts, so far, seemed largely isolated from all of this. Since the fire, nothing had happened to suggest any wrongdoing. Normal pranks and rivalries seemed to mark the calendar, but nothing extraordinary. Severus had taken in with a group of students known for their interest in Dark Arts, but no one could ever catch them at anything. Dumbledore had never been able to determine who had altered Remus' memory, but there, too, nothing new had happened to make anyone suspicious. It had faded into a background concern, nearly forgotten.

Remus sat among his fellow students huddled around books in the common room. In his left hand, he fiddled with the Sun Stone. It scattered light from the torches, but did not distract him. He enjoyed holding it, the surface always felt warm and its unique shape was always a temptation to roll around in his hand. As he leaned forward to read his cryptic, tiny handwritten notes, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He grunted and continued to gaze at a couple indecipherable glyphs, hoping whatever first year had decided to bug him would move on. All too often, it seemed, the first years would turn to him with their problems. As a prefect, Remus had duties including the settling of disputes and keeping the peace. During exam time, however, he largely shied away from the more informal parts of it. With a solid history of ignoring issues during the exam period, most of the students had cottoned on.

He felt a second tap. Remus took a deep breath, steeling himself against the annoyance. Turning, he saw that it was not a first year or just any other student. Lily stood there. She looked very distressed. Remus set down the notes and turned to face her fully. No one else was facing them. James and Sirius were off somewhere. He never saw them studying, but they still made top marks. Peter was in their dorm. He always said he studied best on his own.

Remus gave Lily a questioning look. She only beckoned him and they went out through the Gryffindor portal into the hallway beyond. Lily took a couple steps down the hall and turned back towards him.

"It's Severus," she began. "I … I think he's in some trouble."

"I see," Remus responded. "What has happened?"

"Nothing, yet," she said, "I think. He's just acting suspiciously. Ever since – well, he hasn't been himself."

Remus could almost hear James making a crack about how Severus usually was, but he restrained himself. "What makes you think he's in trouble now? People do change. Maybe he's just growing out of -"

"It's not him," she cut in, "it's the people he hangs around now. His new mates are all so bad. Macnair, that beetle-eyed bully and his lot, they're always around Severus now. He was always a bit of a loner, really, but these friends he doesn't need."

Remus was tempted to say how unsurprising this turn of events was. That bunch terrorized anyone that couldn't stand up for themselves, and Severus had been a master at jinxes, hexes, and curses for as long as Remus had known him. He always seemed just ahead of the curve on many of the popular curses that swept through the school. Severus usually reserved his best curses for James and Sirius, but lately – lately he had shown less restraint than before.

"Has anything happened today? Why are you suddenly so alarmed about it?" Remus asked, wondering himself why she hadn't been alarmed by Severus' actions long ago.

"I passed Severus and one of their group in the hallway on my way to Potions," she began, "I heard him say something about a meeting in a whisper as I moved through the crowds. Looking over at him as I passed by, he gave this greatly affronted look, grabbed the shoulder of the boy he was with, and continued their conversation in a deeper recess."

Remus frowned. "Lily, that 'meeting' could be anything. Maybe he's joining a club. Maybe it's a study group."

"But the look he gave me!" she whispered, sharply.

"You have been on bad terms for some time, right?" he asked, hating himself for having to be so blunt about it.

"Yes," she said, looking askance. "It's just that -"

"So," Remus said, "you can't be really sure what he was talking about, can you?"

"No, but…" she trailed off.

"I know you are concerned about him," Remus said. She looked up. "No matter the distance between you, you always hope for reconciliation. You always want things to go back to the way they were…before. You want him not to change. But you have to admit that there are some things that are irreparable, some distances that cannot be re-crossed."

As he spoke, Remus felt a pang in his own heart at the thought of a friend long gone. His fingers closed around the gem in his pocket, his comfort. He fought and kept the emotion from his face. This was about Lily and her friendship with Severus, not him and his past.

"If you two are friends again someday, you'll both be different by then. If it still works, great," Remus said, smiling, fighting the thought of if it did not still work. "He'll have new friends and you will too."

Lily still had a troubled expression. Remus said, "I would not worry about that group. They're all talk and minor bullying. If they have a 'meeting' it will be to mess with a few second years before they're told off by a professor or prefect."

Lily didn't smile, but she looked a little less strained around her eyes. "I suppose you're right," she said. "It's just scary with everything happening in the outside world."

"But this is Hogwarts, Lily," Remus said. "Nothing ever happens here."

"Except the fire," she said, frowning.

"That was probably a first year experimenting with magic too difficult for him," Remus replied. "That whole tower was a tinder bucket, anyway."

"They've done a great renovation up there," Lily said, "by the way. You should go see it."

"Lily, you know I'm not a big fan of Divination," he answered.

"I know, I know," she responded, "still, you were the hero who helped save what is left of the original tower. You could at least see what your handiwork achieved."

Remus could feel a brighter feeling in Lily's voice and was happier. This turn in conversation had really helped.

"Right," Remus answered in a false-cheery voice. "It just makes me happy that you Divination-addicts have a nice place to enjoy it."

"Are you calling me an addict, Mr. Must-Know-Everything-About-Magical-Creatures?" she laughed.

"Yes, yes I am," Remus answered, "And for the record, there are only a few magical creatures I am most curious about."

"Of course, Hinkypunks and Flobberworms key among them," Lily said with a smirk.

The common room portal opened from the inside and a young boy stuck his head out. "Lily, Remus!" he called, "We need a prefect. There's a fight!"

The two rushed in. Who knew where the other prefects were on a day like this? Usually exams were not too crazy, but sometimes the pressure of exams made people snap at each other. After breaking apart a couple of third years fighting over something nonsensical, Lily and Remus returned to their respective studies. All of the tables in the common room were covered with books and long scrolls of notes for various students in the room. Many of the younger students clustered around a particularly well prepared student's materials on the floor.

Just as Remus settled back into his notes and found the place he had left off, he felt another prod. He turned, resigned to the fact that this afternoon would not be very productive. Instead of Lily, this time it was James standing over him, smiling broadly. At a questioning look from Remus, he said, "It's done."

"Really?" Remus asked, excited, his work forgotten. "We've spent so much time on it. How do you know it is complete? Have you tested it?"

"Yes, yes," James answered. "I just did a walking tour of the castle with it and everything was spot on. It even detected Peeves when he stayed still long enough for the charms to recognize him."

"Excellent," Remus said, lowering his voice. "Are you going to use it, you know, tonight?"

"You bet!" James said. "No guesswork from now on."

Remus looked relieved. "Well, at least it will keep others safer, won't it?"

"Of course," James said, looking more serious than usual. "Why do you think we made it?"

"To enable more intelligent mischief?" Remus asked with a smile.

"Besides that," James said, feigning a look of offense.

Remus smiled, "For the benefit of generations of Hogwarts students yet to grace these walls."

"Precisely!" James said with that mischievous grin. "We don't want everyone to have to discover all of the secrets from scratch, do we?"

"Not that we found everything," Remus answered. "We still haven't figured out how that room appeared on seven."

"That one is an anomaly," James said, "It doesn't appear on the map for now. I'm sure we'll work it out, though. Still another year for that, eh?"

Remus looked pensive for a moment. "Are you sure you guys want to come out tonight? Exams are just around the corner."

"Posh!" James said, "Don't think of it. We'll be there. Oh, speaking of…I need to go ask Slughorn about something, catch you later, Remus."

"Alright," Remus said as James walked away. "Oh, and James," he said. James turned. "Thanks."

James just grinned and hopped out of the portrait hole and into the castle proper.

* * *

The four of them had formed a routine on full moon evenings. Remus would proceed with Ms. Pomfrey to the shack and transform. The others would wait for her to retreat into the castle and for the common room to quiet down. Then, on pretext of going to sleep, the three would retreat to their dormitory and shut the door. Fortunately enough, they were the only boys in their year in Gryffindor.

In the dormitory, James, Sirius, and Peter would retreat under the Invisibility Cloak James' father had passed on to him as a birthday present during their fifth year. This was an extraordinary gift by all accounts. Remus had seen several such cloaks in his early years, but none so fine as this. Even so, the three of them had great difficulty walking under it. The size of the three of these nearly adult boys – Sirius especially had grown significantly in the last year – strained even this large cloak's covering. The result would have been quite amusing if anyone but the three of them could have seen it.

They would proceed down the steps to the Entrance Hall, pass through the grounds, and travel beneath the Whomping Willow to reach his him in the Shrieking Shack. Before they entered, they would ensure he had transformed. James had developed this precaution. If he had not transformed yet, any one of them might let their guard down around him and suffer for it. Transformed, Remus was in a state they could have no question over.

They would transform into their respective Animagus forms: a stag for James, a large dog for Sirius, and a rat for Peter. There was hardly any end to the jokes James and Sirius would throw at Peter over his Animagus rat. Remus did not join in. He was very glad that they would be there for him at all.

A curious thing occurred while they were with him. Remus had partial clarity. He could see and remember what happened. He still could not control his body – the beast within was quite powerful – but he was not lost in a haze like in other months. The dangerous adventures they went through were exciting to all of them. Remus felt some level of remorse over it in his more worrisome hours. He felt as though he had betrayed the Headmaster in his reckless allowance of the proceedings. Remus did not attempt to stop it, however.

Remus knew, the next morning, that something had gone wrong with the plan that night. He knew this because he could not remember anything. This had happened before. There was a full moon in the fall of that year where a professor had caught the other three sneaking about in the late evening. Evidently, Peter had been a bit careless in watching how wide his stride was under the cloak and a passing professor had been surprised to see a leg sticking out of thin air. Peter had been caught, the other two had fled under the cloak, and the professors still had no idea how it had happened.

James arrived alone in the late morning hours to speak with Remus. Ms. Pomfrey allowed him one visitor at a time to keep him from having too much stimulation. James had an unusually serious and anxious look on his face. Remus tried to put on a positive face. He knew that his friends would worry that he had felt down from being left alone on a full moon night.

"James!" Remus said. "Good to see you. It was getting too quiet down here."

James watched Ms. Pomfrey retreat into the back room before he sat down on the bed next to Remus. "I'm sorry we missed you mate," he began.

"Not a problem, James," Remus responded, as cheerily as he could sound. "Did Peter trip out of the cloak again?"

"No…" James said, "Nothing like that. It's…it's Severus."

"What about him?" Remus asked, sitting up quickly.

"Well," James answered, "he was interrogating Sirius about where you go every month. You know Sirius, right? Well, he got really irritated with Severus and told him to go to the Shack and he'd find out."

Remus was appalled. "He told him to do what?"

"Don't worry," James cut in, "I stopped Severus before he got there. Severus is angry, as you would imagine. I…I had to tell him. He threatened to tell everyone."

Remus was aghast. How had so much happened while he slept? "I want to speak with him."

"No use, mate," James said. "He is refusing to speak with any of us. He hid himself into the library this morning. I tried to talk to him as he left the Great Hall, but it's no use."

"Then, maybe," Remus said, more to himself than to James, "perhaps she could…no, she wouldn't want to…"

"Lily?" James asked, with an odd look on his face.

"They were friends," Remus said, looking over at James. "At least, they used to be friends. Can you imagine if everyone in the school knew? The more offended would tell their parents, who – in turn – would complain to the ministry. Dumbledore would get in trouble and I would be kicked out of school."

"Maybe they would understand," James urged.

"James," Remus said seriously, "You haven't experienced it. People are terrified of werewolves; they hate us! I...I can't really blame them. Precautions or not, many parents would demand I was expelled or they would pull their children out of school."

"I suppose you're right," James said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Should I speak with her or do you want her to come see you?"

"Tell her I want to see her," Remus said. "She can barely stand you, mate."

"True," James answered distractedly. "Hopefully not forever."

"Now is not a time to mend old, collapsed bridges, James," Remus replied, seeing the look in James' eyes. "Please, just tell her I want to see her."

"Sure, sure," James answered, "See you later."

"Thanks, mate."

Twenty minutes passed. Remus found he had become strangely calm and patient. He felt as though he had always known the secret would get loose. It was almost relieving to know it had happened and that he could now take care of it. That Severus had discovered his secret did nothing to brighten his mood. However, even this did not bother him too much.

Remus knew that Severus was troubled. He did not know if Lily would be able to convince him to stay quiet. Even from the first, there had always been something different about that Severus boy. His friendship with Lily was one of the strangest things Remus had ever experienced. She was so kind and thoughtful; he was dark and brooding. Childhood can bring together unlike friends.

Remus knew about Severus' general animosity towards his friends, he knew about the distance that had grown between Lily and Severus, and he knew about the crowd in which Severus now ran. Despite all of this, Remus did not think Severus would speak out against him. It was a gut impression – at best – but it sufficed to rein in Remus' anxieties.

Ms. Pomfrey had not returned from the back room yet when Lily entered. She had a line of worry across her forehead that had grown in the last few days. Exams always stressed Lily out as much as Remus. Only James and Sirius in their year seemed immune to it. The exams were set to begin in two days.

Lily sat down on the same bed James had sat on before. "Hi Remus," she said with cheer. "How are you?"

"Fine," he responded, "How's studying?"

"Alright," she answered, "not much time, left for it."

"Yeah…" he said trailing off.

"James said you needed to see me," Lily said.

"Yes," Remus said. "Well, we had a bit of an incident yesterday."

"What happened?" she asked, her cheery exterior faded, revealing the nerves she had been fighting. "You didn't get loose again?"

"No," he said, "Sirius did something stupid and … well … Severus knows about it."

"Severus?" she questioned. "How did he find out?"

"Apparently," Remus answered with more annoyance than he had intended, "he was asking Sirius questions about where I went and Sirius told him where to go to find out. James stopped Severus before he got hurt. Severus is pretty angry, as you might expect."

"Well," Lily said, "so, he knows. Severus wouldn't go telling everyone. He's not like that."

"Do you know that?" Remus asked, earnestly.

"I…he…" she began.

"The truth is," Remus answered, "left alone, we don't know what he will or won't do. I don't want to tell the professors or we'll have to explain how all of this came about and that could be bad for Sirius, James, and Severus. James and Severus were both out later than they ought to be. Sirius put Severus' life in danger."

"I see," she murmured thoughtfully. "You want me to speak with him."

Her blunt recognition of his intent startled Remus. He faltered, "…yes."

"I know you two are not on speaking terms at the moment," Remus stated, "but he is refusing to speak with any of us. I cannot go seek him out, and if Sirius, James, or Peter did it, he might grow angry and ..."

"Yes," Lily said with distraction. "I … I will go speak with him."

She stood, turning to go. "Lily." She looked back toward him. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. This is my burden, I can take it."

"Nonsense," she answered warmly. "It's the least I can do."

She walked out of the wing just as Ms. Pomfrey returned. Remus was at complete ease. He knew she would go; he was sure she could talk sense into her old friend. There must be some small bit of friendship left.

Unfortunately, Lily could not prove him right. She searched the school and could not find Severus anywhere. He had disappeared from the library and no Slytherins could remember seeing him in their dormitory. Her search took her from tower to dungeons. There was no Severus anywhere. The grounds were full of students, laying out with books in study circles and hardly making any progress. No Severus.

After some time of searching, she told James, and he and his two counterparts helped her search. The plan was not for them to approach him, but just find out where he was for her. Still, searching the grounds, Quidditch stadium, and the castle proved futile.

The four reconvened outside of the hospital wing, shaking their heads as each approached. When the four had finally met up Lily furrowed her brow and said, "I suppose he doesn't want to be found, wherever he is."

James, Sirius, and Peter all nodded silently. Remus waited inside, hopeful that she had resolved the conflict with Severus. He was not yet aware that Severus had so far eluded them. The doorway separating the search party and Remus felt like a boulder. Who would roll it back and tell Remus what had happened?

"I suppose, I should tell Remus what happened," James said. "Ms. Pomfrey won't let him have more than one visitor at a time."

"Yeah," Sirius chimed in, seriously, "I reckon he won't want to see me yet."

"Maybe we can still find him first," Lily said with a hint of hope in her voice. "Where was it you said you saw him last?"

"I?" James answered, "I last saw him as he entered the library not a half hour before I sent you over to Remus."

"Then, I saw him," Peter said, "headed upstairs in the Main Stair a little later."

"But, we've checked the entire castle!" Sirius exclaimed, "Except the other house dormitories and professor's offices, of course."

"And, we checked with members of the Slytherin House. He couldn't have gone in the other house common rooms," James leapt in.

"Also, all of the professors were at lunch not a half hour ago," Peter said, shaking his head. "None of them would leave a student in their office alone."

Sirius was looking over at a suit of armor that had slumped dangerously to one side. It looked as though a slight breeze would scatter its parts across the hallway. He suddenly looked up and gave James a very odd look. He looked over at Lily and then back at James. Peter looked over at him with a querulous look. Lily and James continued standing with their heads bowed in thought.

"James," Sirius asked, "can I have a quick word with you?"

"Sure," James answered as Lily looked up. She looked between the two and Peter, whose expression still expressed heavy confusion. The two walked around the corner, leaving Peter and Lily clueless.

"Have you checked the map?" Sirius asked when they were out of earshot.

James looked back in Lily's direction, briefly. "Yes," he replied. "I couldn't see him in any obvious open areas. Some places are too dense with students to see well – like the Great Hall. However, I did not see him anywhere."

"Alright," Sirius said, his sudden hope dashed. "I just wanted to know we had checked everything."

"Right, mate," James said. "What is he up to, do you reckon?"

"Maybe he Apparated away?" Sirius suggested.

"Where would he go with no notice?" James asked. "I have a feeling he's still here, just holed up somewhere."

" Yeah, who knows if the Slytherin are lying about his presence in their dormitory?" Sirius responded.

"It's possible," James said, "but why would they have to lie about it? If he was there, what could we do about it?"

"Well, he must have gone somewhere," Sirius said. "People can't just disappear into air."

"Or…can they?" James asked. "Remember that room Lily found Remus in? It just appeared out of nowhere. Maybe he went there. Maybe he knows about it too."

The pair hurried back to the others. Both Lily and Peter looked up as they approached. Nothing appeared to have changed since they left.

"Lily," James said, "Do you remember how you found that room where Remus was tied up?"

"Er -" she began, pausing to remember. "I was wandering around in the dark. I just stumbled upon it. I've never been able to since, though. I've searched that whole stretch of hallways dozens of times with no effect."

"Yes," James answered. "So have we."

"Then why did you ask?" Lily cried. "If you've tried it, you know!"

"You're the only one here who has opened it," Sirius responded. "That's the difference."

"Were you casting any spells?" James asked earnestly.

"No, just a light spell," Lily answered, irritably, "and why the sudden interest in that room? We're looking for … for… Oh, my! Do you think he may be hiding there?"

"Sirius and I were wondering that," James answered.

Lily stood there, considering for a moment. "Maybe it only opened before because Remus was there and I was looking for him."

"You think the room knew your thoughts?" Sirius asked.

"Well," Lily answered, "it's just a possibility. Magic is a funny thing, sometimes."

"Hmm," Sirius hummed, not convinced.

"I thought I saw a door appear once," Peter said, suddenly.

"What?" everyone asked. Their voices seemed to echo each other and then reecho as they bounced between the stone walls.

"I was pacing in front of it," Peter said, "trying to get it to open like James said. I saw a door appearing as I made one last turn about near the edge of that blank place on the wall, but a prefect came by and told me off for loitering. I tried to go back later, but it was gone."

"When did this happen?" James asked, incredulous. "And why didn't you tell any of us?"

"A year or more ago," Peter answered, "and it happened so quickly, I wasn't really sure I had seen anything at all."

"What were you thinking about?" Lily asked, with interest.

"Well," Peter said with a guilty expression, "I was … I wanted to hurry off to the lavatory. However, I had to give it a chance before I went off. We only had so much time between classes."

"So," Lily said aloud, ignoring the looks of amusement by James and Sirius, "you wanted something and the door appeared. And, it sounds like you were pacing back and forth."

"Maybe that's the key!" she said suddenly after a brief pause. "I was lost, walking back and forth and who knew where when I was looking for Remus. I wanted to find him, but I didn't notice where I was going. I could have passed before that wall a few times."

"Let's check it out!" James exclaimed, catching onto the excitement.

The others agreed, and they hurried to the seventh floor. While everyone watched, Lily paced the empty wall, back and forth, a few times. Nothing happened. She tried it with slower paces and faster. She tried it with different levels of concentration on her face. After a while, she let James take over. Then, Sirius stepped in. Peter did his best.

Each had taken it in turn, but no one had entered. The four of them stood studying that patch of wall as though they were art museum patrons. When James sighed, turning toward his companions, about to speak, the door appeared and opened. To all of their shock, out stepped Severus Snape. He backed out of the door, shutting it behind him, before he turned and saw them standing there.

He froze for an instant. His hand flew to his robe, and his wand was just emerging from his pocket when James and Lily stunned him simultaneously. Severus fell to the floor, dropping his wand. Peter collected it and joined the others around the fallen student. Lily revived Severus.

His eyes blinked twice as he took in the faces over him. His face tightened in a snarl. "Give me my wand."

"Severus, wait," Lily began.

"What?" Severus growled, "For you and your new friends to attack me again?"

"We didn't mean to attack you," she said, "you were drawing your wand."

James, Sirius, and Peter remained quiet. The hallway had begun to feel much too small for the five of them.

"You would draw your wand, too," Severus responded, "if you came out of a doorway surrounded by four unexpected people." He cast a foul look in James' direction.

"We just wanted to talk," Lily said, smoothly.

"Not interested," Severus answered, trying to rise.

James restrained him, "Just for a moment," he said, as kindly as he could muster.

Severus glared even more harshly back.

"It's about Remus," Lily said, cutting in.

"What about him?" Severus asked, sharing this new expression with Lily directly. "Your new boyfriend all upset about exams?"

"No," she answered, "and he's not my boyfriend, Severus. We've talked about that."

"Whatever," Severus answered, stonily.

"Cut it, Snivellus," Sirius broke in, "we all know you know about Remus."

"How dare you speak to me, you…you…?" Severus nearly shouted; his eyes blazed with hatred a step beyond even that reserved for James now.

"Severus," Lily said again, taking his attention back. "This is not about Sirius, James, Peter, nor me. It's about Remus. If you have any respect for the memory of our friendship, you won't tell anyone about him. Please?"

Severus looked deeply into her eyes. His eyes softened, but the face around remained hard and furious. "FINE!" he shouted, "Don't worry about your precious Remus. No one will hear from me."

With that, he leapt up, snatched his wand from Peter with excessive force – knocking Peter into the wall – and stormed off. Lily's eyes were wet with fresh tears. James, Sirius, and Peter had a mixture of anger and reassurance in their faces. Whatever had just happened, Remus' secret seemed safe.

Lily walked off without saying a word to the other three. She passed through the hallways and the common room like a ghost, unseeing and unhearing anything. In her room, she lay back on her bed and cried. One lingering thought haunted her as she slipped off into a mid-day nap. What had Severus been doing in that mysterious room?


	14. Chapter 14: The Fires of Hell

"_Protego horribilis! Salvio hexia!_" Remus cried with his wand extended.

A barrage of spells began to bombard his protection. When one of his protective spells weakened, he focused his energy and replaced it. He did not attack. They had him surrounded. The most he could do was to hold them off until help could arrive. One or two of the attackers had joined in focusing their hexes on a single point in an attempt to punch through his shield.

The sky had filled with brilliant colors, both those of the spells and the reactions of his protective spells. The atmosphere grew hot, each strike creating more warmth. Remus could feel sweat spread across his brow and trickle down the small of his back. In the first ten seconds of the attack, the temperature had risen ten degrees. With a flick amid his defensive rebuilding, he set a bubble of cool air around his body. It would only last a moment with the intensity of this fight, but he had to do what he could.

An opening appeared to his left. He could not see it, but sensed the opening, and he threw his wand fiercely towards it. To the right another gap appeared. It was becoming more difficult to manage. The attackers were coordinating their efforts. He barely had time to cover the latest gap when a new one had appeared. If only he could hold on a moment longer.

A single wand rose before him. He could see it, like a dagger in the cold, clear winter air, as his wand moved as of its own accord, protecting him. The wand thrust forward with its first and only spell. All of his protection evaporated and he was suddenly battered under a dozen hexes. He fell to the ground, feeling the various hexes taking effect. His face grew with tentacles, his legs turned green and burned, his chest was compressed, and his arms felt as though they were melting into the grass.

The attack had ended. In an instant, the sky cleared and the temperature dropped. A beautiful blue sky sailed above Remus' squinting eyes. A dozen or so faces suddenly blocked his view. That wand, the one that had struck him down, flicked again, and all of the hexes were lifted. He felt someone grasp his hand and shoulder, and he was hefted to his feet.

"Brilliant!" cried a voice. It was James. "You did great, Remus!"

Other cries of assent followed. Remus felt a little dazed, but still managed a smile. The sun beat down on his head. His classmates beat on his back. Their encouragement was worth a lot, but he looked over for one person's approval.

"You performed well, Remus," Dumbledore said, smiling and lowering his wand. "Your defensive tactics kept a much larger force at bay for quite some time. However," he added, seriously, "Sometimes an offense is the better defense. You cannot always fight on the premise that others will come to your aid. Often they will, but there will be a time when you find you are on your own. Even against a greater threat, you will need to attack your opponents to protect yourself and others."

Remus nodded and said nothing. The other class members had all turned to listen to their professor's words. Although Dumbledore was the Headmaster, he had decided to implement a new course for the seventh years. With the world he saw without, a world torn by a silent and dangerous darkness, he had spoken to each student of the 7th year to urge him or her to join him in preparing for what lay without.

Some would not. Dumbledore did not demand it of them. He set it to each as an individual decision. They did not speak with any other student before he had spoken with them all. If a student refused, Dumbledore let him or her go. Implied within was a promise to help Dumbledore in the war to come. Some would not for fear for their lives. Some would not for other reasons. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, and Lily all had said yes.

The training was intense and it was in addition to their final year at Hogwarts. Both N.E.W.T.s and the coming end of school had increased the pressure for everyone who remained. This training had begun broadly. Dumbledore had discussed advanced magical spells, helped them excel in those techniques, and taught them strategy. Now, it had moved on to concentrate upon individual students and improving their weak points. The best way to ferret out a weakness was to observe it in pitched battle. Dumbledore always gave them advice after each battle.

Dumbledore thanked them all for their efforts and sent them on their way. The Gryffindors walked up the Grand Stair. James and Lily were walking a little behind the main pack, talking. Of all the curious things that could ever have occurred, Remus had never foreseen those two carrying on a civil conversation, much less dating. Yet, here it was. Neither of them would tell Remus or his friends how it had come about, but they had certainly noticed the upswing of pleasantness between the two throughout the first half of the seventh year. Shortly after Christmas, they began openly dating.

It hadn't affected Remus' friendship with either of them. This surprised him. He had always had an odd sense of jealousy coming from James about Remus' friendship with Lily. The friendship was separate, though. It was as different a part of her life as James' friendship with the Marauders was for him. Lily did not participate in their pranks and excitement. She didn't stop James from doing what he liked, but he naturally became a little less involved. His time was not all his own, now.

With all of the studying and training, they hardly had much time for it now, in any case. Remus felt a steady drifting apart among the Marauders. It was hardly noticeable, but they were hardly ever together as they used to be. Studies drew them into their separate corners, and dreams of the future had caught each man's eye.

James had always wanted to be an Auror. Dark wizard catching seemed the eternal challenge. No matter what might be said of James' pranks and the hexes and jinxes he would turn against Severus (more surreptitiously since Lily was often at hand), he was against the Dark Arts. He would never use spells to cause pain and suffering. He was gifted and skilled. He would surely make a fantastic Auror. In these dark times, they would need men like James.

Sirius had not known his path as long as James. Sirius seemed least able to leave the past – the pranks and life at the school. He lived for the attention Quidditch gave him. For the last year and more he had waffled between so many areas when asked what he would do. It had become quite a joke among the Marauders; in the midst of some elaborate scheme, someone would always ask him his ambition. "Master Healer at St. Mungo's!" "Adventurer Pirate, sailing the skies on my own Abraxan!" "Youngest Minister of Magic!"

It was not a total surprise when one day he had announced a final decision. He had decided to submit his name to the Quidditch League for the yearly draft. What surprised everyone was that he did not change his decision in a day, week, or even month. Everyone was resigned to believe he really had made a choice. He would be brilliant, of course.

Peter had applied to the Ministry for a start-up position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. No one ever quite understood the appeal of the department to him, but he seemed adamant about getting a position there. No one was more a fan of the Gryffindor Quidditch team than Peter. Remus guessed he wanted to become a reporter for the sport. He did not have the skills on a broom to compete at the level James and Sirius could, but he did have a lot of enthusiasm.

Remus didn't kid himself about life after school. He had been warned that it would never be easy for someone in his position. As a werewolf, he would face extreme prejudice from many places. A Ministry requirement did not help matters. He was required to disclose to any potential employer his status or face fines and possible jail time. The Ministry had folded to heavy pressure ten years before when an incident at one magical potions factory had left several dead and a few victims afflicted with lycanthropy.

To make matters worse, the current mood was sorely against werewolves. The Ministry itself was largely responsible, often opting to blame werewolves for various disappearances that they could not explain. Still, Remus was not one to throw up his hands and surrender to helplessness. His plan was to find a niche that he could fill in a highly specialized field. If he solidified his place among the leading researchers in Charm Development – an area he had developed some interest in – prejudice would have little to do with his daily work. In research, as in few areas, what kind of person you are is not as important as what you have done and can do.

Of course, entering the realm of Charm Development was a difficult road. Remus had spoken with Professor Flitwick at the start of term about the area. Flitwick expressed excitement that Remus should pursue it. He and Slughorn – who was without parallel in terms of connections – had set about finding a proper place for him to apprentice in the art.

"It truly is an art, Mr. Lupin," Flitwick would say. "You must develop the theory. The theory must be sound. As you have seen, a great deal of a wizard or witch's ability to perform a spell depends on the grounding in the knowledge of this theory. Then, you must concentrate on the fundamental elements of magical nature that will make up the spell. If you were to invent a charm that made a metal pole light on fire every time you snapped your fingers, for example, the elementals might be metal, fire, and sound. Each of these elements is essential to the spell's existence. Others may come into play, but that would depend on your theory.

"It is the combination in the correct amounts that allows the spell maker to conjure the power to create. The words and wand motion must be chosen decisively, as they will embody the character of the spell and must not be overly cumbersome – not for the sake of creation, but for the eventual user. The power used in the initial creation will far exceed that of its typical use. It is said that when Wingardium Leviosa was developed, two wizards focused on the distinct elementals of wind and gravity, one raising the wind, one lessening the gravity, and a third cast the spell through it. The complexity of the spell increases the complexity of the development."

"What is it like to create a spell?" Remus asked.

"A truly powerful spell will leave a lasting mark on the place it is created and those who create it," Flitwick responded. "This mark is like an energy signature. Wizards of great ability can tap into this power to sense the use of magic anywhere it may occur. Others simply feel a resonant emotion related to it. I, personally, have visited the place where the Killing Curse was created. It is a dreadful place, truly. The field was the place of a great battle between the Wizards and Goblins in a war hardly remembered by historians. Some dark wizard used the essence of death all about him to form the elemental of the spell. The field lies barren still. Nothing will ever grow there."

Remus thought about the things that his professor had said. Something felt so right, so brilliant about developing new charms, new spells people would use so long from now. He knew he could do it. He had several ideas, already. With the war constantly in the headlines, Remus had studied up on magical defensive spells and the dark magic used to defeat them. It seemed to him that the light side of magic was heavily outgunned in the field. They had clever and strong spells, this is true, but they lacked anything to contend with some of the fiercer attacks of the dark wizards.

Avada Kedavra was one. There was no way to block, deter, or prevent its flight. It was a little out of Remus' sights at this young age, however. The magic involved to counteract the unblockable would be well beyond his abilities. Another spell had fallen into his sights, though. Fiendfyre was wild and foul. It could withstand a dozen Aguamentis from the strongest wizards even before it had taken off. When it was loosed, there was almost no stopping it, save drowning it in an ocean of water. Often those facing it were between choices of death by fire or water to stop it.

Remus' idea was to fight fire with water. Water spells were often simple and impractical against the power of this spell. However, if he could counteract the madness of this searching destroyer with a spell that intelligently extinguished it, ruthlessly, then the danger from such attacks might be lessened. He had developed the theory meticulously at night. He had the elementals in mind, but…he hesitated. It was incredibly difficult magic to manage. There was no suitable place to try it out. Everything weighed against him here. He held off and the notes gathered dust in his trunk.

Perhaps if he began to work in the area he could get the support of one of the great masters to help him make his charm a reality. It could prove useful to those fighting this war, Remus included. He had decided, on top of the work, that he would do what he could to help in this war. The Ministry of Magic would not accept civilian help "in matters best left to Aurors," nor would they accept him into any department within the Ministry, save the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This was a slap within itself. Whether the Ministry liked or not, he would do his part.

* * *

Severus Snape left the school two months before the N.E.W.T.s. He gave no warning, he told no one as he left. One morning, he was simply gone. A few days passed and several other members of his group disappeared, as well. As they were the primary disrupters of peace and order in the school, Hogwarts calmed significantly. Students went about their way, unworried – for once – that they would be jinxed from behind as they passed along the corridors.

Remus, however, was not settled by this turn of events. It upset Lily tremendously, although she worked hard to hide it. James did his part in saying as little about it as possible. Remus admired his tact in this, for once. Perhaps he was growing up. Severus' disappearance, however, convinced Remus that he had gone to join up with You-Know-Who. The others – the Marauders, he would not speak to Lily of this – were not so sure. Ever since the others had seen Severus sneaking out of the mysterious room last year, Remus had been sure he was up to no good.

They had found their way into the room. It did whatever they wished. They could only postulate that it had not opened for them at Severus' request before. They could never make it appear on the Map they had created, however. The map's purpose for them was almost past. James was on the lookout for suitable heirs to the Marauder's legacy.

As calm as the interior of Hogwarts had become, so had the outside become terrible. The war had taken a turn for the worse. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had begun direct assaults on the Ministry. Several high-level officials had died in recent firefights in broad daylight. The weather, too, seemed to turn sour in recent months. There was a perpetual fog across southern England, and Dementor attacks were announced in the paper daily. Hogwarts itself was blanketed in days of thunderous rain.

On the last Friday before finals began, Remus and his friends left Transfigurations for the last time as students of that class. The route they took back towards their common room was winding and leisurely. All of them felt confident. They had studied for their exams for months, covering seven years of material repeatedly. Remus had never felt so comfortable before an examination.

Normally, on a Friday afternoon Dumbledore would have had another of his personal training sessions. However, he had been called off suddenly to the Ministry on urgent matters. In the panic that was gripping the Wizarding World, Remus could see why. Only Dumbledore seemed a beacon of light and hope in this troubled time. He had defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in battle. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named appeared to fear a direct confrontation with him.

Rain washed across the windows they passed, creating an eerie, enclosed feeling in the hallway. Remus could dimly distinguish the grounds, and, beyond, the Forbidden Forest. Some trick of the light, no doubt, urged him to believe there were dark figures scurrying about at the edge of the forest. He blinked and looked back. All was still but for the falling rain.

The others were talking amicably about their final weekend at Hogwarts. There was, evidently, a plan in the works for a party that might last from Friday evening until Saturday night. Remus kept quiet. He felt troubled. No one wanted to talk about the ominous feeling he had experienced for days. No one wanted to talk about Severus and the others' walk out. His soul would not calm. There was certainly something wrong.

They entered the common room and seized the chairs nearest the fireplace. James and Lily took the couch across from Remus, Sirius, and Peter. The fire glowed happily across their faces. The candles flickered low. The effect was that the five of them were nearly isolated in a ring of firelight. It was warm and dry. The world beyond the windows was cool and wet. They were cocooned in the safety of their common room.

Remus relaxed. Other classrooms full of students passed by, trudging up to dormitories or piling back into their corners to continue their studies. Most of the Gryffindor Tower was full within a fifteen-minute time span. Dinner would begin in an hour or two. After that, the festivities would begin. Until that time, everyone kept relatively silent. The Marauders enjoyed pranks enough, but would never disrupt students actively focused on studying just before exams.

James stoked the fires with a flick of his wand. The log burst with a crackle and a swirl of embers took flight, temporarily increasing the light in the fireplace. The light resolved into a similar dimming light from before. Remus watched the dying light with a mild interest. It flickered every time the portal to the castle proper opened.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion from outside the portal. It sounded like shouting voices. "Stand aside! I must be through," said a gruff, harsh voice. "NO! No one may pass without the password and you are not a student of this tower!" came the voice of the Fat Lady, the picture guardian of the Gryffindor Tower.

"If you will not stand aside, I will remove your picture," growled the mystery voice. "You wouldn't!" she shouted back at him.

By this time, the students in the common room were roused and wands appeared in hands all around. Remus and his friends centered themselves before the door. The resident seniors of the House, prefects, Head Boy and Girl (in James and Lily), and members of Dumbledore's group did not hesitate to stand up before the threat at the door. Should this man find a way in, they were responsible for all of their fellow Gryffindors.

Time seemed to freeze. The five of them stood up front with a line of other seventh, sixth, and fifth year students just behind them. The firelight played hot and brightly upon their cheeks. Remus could see their silhouettes etched in relief against the lit backdrop. All eyes were straightforward; all focus was upon the simple, flimsy feeling portal to the Gryffindor common room.

The man began to bombard the door with attacks. It shuddered and shook, but would not budge or cave. The protests of the Fat Lady faded into the background. She had run into another painting nearby, as her portrait took the brunt of the assault. The man's spells became more rabid and intense. His aim had loosened and the wall around the door likewise began to thud with the same force.

He stopped. Another was speaking to him. "What are you doing? Do you want to alert the whole castle?"

"We have a job to do, here," the first voice responded.

"Yes, but we won't get through by bombarding the door with spells," the second responded. "The spells that protect it are very strong. It is said that Godric Gryffindor himself placed them upon the doorway, walls, exterior tower, and floors of the tower. He wanted his students to sleep soundly."

"Then, how?" asked the first.

"That is why I brought this," the second replied. A muffled cry went out, as though a puppy had been struck.

"Listen, students of Gryffindor!" the second voice spoke clearly through the portal. "Open the door and surrender or we will kill this one. What is your name?"

"Marcus Tethman," cried a little, scared boy. Remus had helped this first year Gryffindor student at the beginning of the year. As many first years, he had become lost looking for the Charms classroom.

Remus looked over at his friends. Their faces contained the same mixture of fear, horror, and determined anger that he felt. It seemed that the attackers could not enter the common room without someone opening it. However, they had one of their students held out there.

Remus whispered to them, "What should we do?"

James looked over helplessly. Lily glared straight at the door and said nothing. Peter looked down. Sirius answered with a growl of his own, "Nothing. We cannot do anything. We all know it. If we open the door, we have no idea how many are out there. If they mean to kill us, they will not hold back if they get in."

"Maybe we can take them?" Remus suggested. "It sounds like there are only two of them."

"We can't be sure," Sirius answered shortly. "They could be disguising their numbers."

"But - "

"No, Remus," Lily said, teary-eyed. "He's right. We can only hope a professor will come to help us."

Remus frowned, lowering his head. He burned with anger. To do nothing felt terrible. His wand spat red sparks, but he made no move. Remus could feel the terror of that young student. Marcus had probably hurried back up to the common room from class, off to sit in his corner with other first years to study for their exams. He just never made it in.

A silence fell. As the seventh years had spoken with each other, a stream of murmurs appeared about the other students. When they stopped speaking so did the other students. Everyone waited, quietly, terrified at what they were about to witness.

The men outside grew impatient. "You won't open?" one of them said, "You hope, perhaps, that help is coming? By now, the others will have taken out the staff. You are alone. You cannot stay in there forever. Your friend here cannot afford for you to wait."

"_Crucio!_" the voice cried. It was followed by the screams of the innocent first year.

Everyone winced. Remus felt his hand tighten harshly around his wand. The ridges along the middle began to bite into his skin, but he did nothing to loosen his grip. No one moved for the door. He could see, peripherally, James and Lily shaking with similar anger.

The screams fell silent, and the child only cried. The sound was muffled through the heavy door. Remus could hear one of the men pacing back and forth before the door. The clicking sound of heals upon the floor echoed hollowly over the distant sound of thunder and rain.

"You monsters!" Lily cried through the door.

"Let us in and we will not harm anyone else," came the second voice, forcing a compassionate note into his voice.

"Don't do it!" Marcus called, crying as he lay there beyond the portal.

"Shut up, you!" the first voice cried. They heard the sound of a foot kicking a soft, pliable substance, followed by another moan of pain.

"Cowards!" James yelled, his eyes looking daggers into the doorway.

"They're not coming out," said one with anger. "If that is your choice, then die, fools!"

He cried out a rage-filled spell that struck the wall with the greatest impact yet. "What are you doing?" cried the other voice. "You'll kill us all!" Their footsteps flew from the doorway just as the wall erupted in fire.

It was no ordinary flame. It danced angrily and chaotically. Remus recognized it from textbooks and felt his bones chill. The heat began to resonate throughout the room, and everything was lit as under the midday sun. Two dozen cries of "_Aguamenti!_" filled the air and the beast was struck by a direct stream of water from the students. Others joined in with their feebler water spells.

James shouted something to Lily that Remus could not hear. They released their water streams, turned behind them, and blasted open the windows along the back of the tower. The rain began to splatter down across the back of the common room, causing many of the younger students to jump with displeasure. James and Lily concentrated and used spells to funnel the blinding rainwater into a torrent, aiming it at the wall of fire before them.

The Fiendfyre staggered, but did not go out. It was a monster of fire, adaptable and terrible. When one section was heavily struck, another would burst forth with energy. It played games with the streams of water, dodging and weaving between them. Still, the roomful of students kept it at bay. The heat, however, increased. Remus could feel his arms burn. Everyone had been forced back to the mid-point or further back in the common room. The walls, ceiling, and floor along with everything on them burned heavily before them. Scrolls of students' notes sizzled and crumpled, forgotten in their corners.

The steam rising from the places where the water and fire collided began to obscure the fire before them, giving it greater surprise in its attacks. The students began to strike more blindly at the hazy space before them. The fire found more room to move and began to push the students back further.

Remus staggered in the heat towards the center of the block of students. He focused his water on the center of the beast, holding off as much of the heat as he could. There was no help coming for them. If they did nothing, it was only a matter of time. The fire would consume them all. It had already begun to eat through the floor and burst through the flooring at random, immediately washed out by a quick burst by a student close by, but they couldn't hold off its attacks forever.

Remus called the other seventh years to him. They inched over, catching bursts of fire as they went. He yelled, "When I give the signal, focus your water two meters in front of me!" They did not question him, they did not protest. All of them nodded. "Give me a moment. Hold it off!"

He released his stream of water and the beast surged forwards. It felt a weakening in the attack, and knew the end was near. Remus felt the sweat bathe his forehead and could barely see through the intensity of the heat and the salt in his eyes. He focused; through the pain and fear, he focused. Remus could feel the elementals: the water, the wind, and the mind. He could see the spell. He could feel the essence of it.

Remus nodded, raising his wand towards the heart of the beast. The others shifted their streams to intersect before him. He cried, "_Angelis Aguanti!_" and forced all of his thoughts into physical being. He felt like his whole body was being torn in two. The pain was intense. He held still, continuing to force his energy into it. An explosive white light flew from his wand.

It flowed like water but split and swam creatively through the air. The Fiendfyre retreated before it. Any place the two connected, the Fiendfyre dissolved and the new spell continued strong. In an instant, the wall played host to the chase. The new spell surrounded the fire and crushed it. The noise of the fire's demise was deafening. Then, as soon as it began, the Fiendfyre was gone and Remus' spell dissipated.

Feeling a sense of relief and exhaustion, Remus toppled to the floor. The last thing he saw was the front wall of the Gryffindor common room, blackened by fire and steaming a thick mist throughout the room.


	15. Chapter 15: Disenchantment

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Improper Use of Magic Office versus Remus J. Lupin. Charges?" asked a drawling, old man. He sat in judgment seat beside a committee of department members, all in their seventies or above.

A wiry old witch with frazzled hair and thin, spider-like fingers raised a slip of parchment high and at arm's width to read the charges. "The accused," she began, "Remus J. Lupin, is charged with the unauthorized creation and use of a spell hereafter designated, 'the spell'. That 'the spell', untested and uncertified by proper authorities, namely this departmental body or a reciprocating member of the Treatise of 1825 regarding the creation of unknown and potentially dangerous spells, was used in the presence of no less than fifty fellow students on the premises of the castle Hogwarts, a Ministry maintained and funded school. Further, the accused is charged with forcing complicity in the creation of 'the spell' upon a company of six fellow students without properly informing them of the nature of the action they were to take part in. That is all."

"Will the accused please stand?" asked the first man. Remus stood from the seat he had taken. "How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty," Remus said, "your grace."

One of the committee members behind the head stood up, removed his glasses, and asked, "Son, where is your solicitor?"

"I have fired him," Remus answered, steadily. "He was inadequate to the task."

"Come, come," said the committee member, "Surely you must have some representation in this matter."

"Wizarding law permits you to have a solicitor of your choosing and hiring," another member added, "If you cannot find a suitable one, the Ministry will select one for you. Have you not been informed of these rights?"

"I fully acknowledge that I have been told so and have been provided with a solicitor," Remus answered in a tired, mechanical fashion. "It was this solicitor whom I have fired."

"Might the committee inquire as to why you have fired him?" asked the same committee member.

"He exhibited extreme prejudice against his client," Remus stated flatly.

"You mean to say, I suppose," said the first, "that he showed prejudice against you on account of the alleged crime? That is a serious accusation against a solicitor of the Ministry of Magic."

"No," Remus answered, coldly. "It was not for the matter at hand that he held a prejudice."

"Then, for what?" asked the committee member.

"The solicitor," Remus said, resignedly, knowing it would come to this, "displayed an aversion to defending a werewolf."

The committee members shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Several members of the audience moved as well. A murmur rolled through the crowd. Those in attendance were largely older wizards and witches of interest within the Ministry. From Hogwarts, only Remus' closest friends had come. He had known this coming in, but had not expected an audience of this size besides.

One of the committee members spoke up, a slender old witch on the second row. "Might I inquire how it was that you were at Hogwarts at the time of the incident?"

"I was a student there," Remus answered. "I only just graduated a few weeks past."

"A student?" the witch asked with her eyebrows arched harshly. "I was not aware that Hogwarts accepted such…such students."

"Professor Dumbledore took special precautions for the monthly transformations, and the professors were well-informed and attentive to the situation," Remus answered in a rehearsed cadence.

A committee member to her left added, "Dumbledore's statement regarding the accused detailed the situation and the protections put in place. He made it clear that the Ministry was well informed and in full consent of the actions taken prior to the accused attending the school."

"Let it be noted," the head of the committee said, "that the status as part-human, part-magical creature is not to be taken as an argument adverse to the accused."

The murmur in the crowd increased. Remus grew red in the face at the term "part-human," but held his tongue. He had expected this as well.

"The committee has received the written testimony of two dozen members of the Gryffindor House," stated the committee head, "as well as the testimony of Mr. Cornelius Danthrop, master of records for the Ministry. These witnesses attest to the spell's creation, use, and the inclusion of other students in the act without prior information. Mr. Danthrop has reported no records from the accused indicating the intent to create a spell, nor any follow-up of inquiries into the process of spell creation.

"As the committee and members of the community are aware, the creation of a spell is potentially hazardous to everyone within the vicinity of the spell's creator, and, theoretically anyone on the planet. An untried spell can have any number of consequences, direct or indirect. The effects of the Drandorenum Spell, created by a member of the Jinx League in 1532, were not completely felt until 1545 when the home in which it was created began to vaporize for an unknown reason. Further investigation tied it to the original spell that had never been used after its inception and has since been placed on the banned spells list.

"It is, therefore, with the utmost care that the Ministry and all members of the Treatise of 1825 approach the creation of a spell. Ample testing and theory considerations are requisite before the committee oversees the creation of the spell. Any deviation from the approved method must be called into question. Intentional and malicious abuse of the rules must be dealt with severely.

"However, dozens of new spells appear every year. These rogue spells are untested and often untraceable to their sources. When a large set of eyewitnesses are available to confirm the creation and first-use of a spell in an unapproved manner, the committee would be remiss in not adhering to its policies. Such negligence on our part might encourage would-be spell creators.

"Before the committee passes judgment, it will extend this opportunity for the accused to defend himself against the allegations. Speak now."

The committee chair sat and folded his hands with patience upon the desk before him. He, along with all eyes in the room, turned towards Remus with interest. Remus felt a heavy weight upon him. The burden of proof was upon him to protect himself. The eyewitness testimonies the committee had received had praised Remus' use of the spell as a lifesaver and protection. They had given him full credit in preventing disaster.

Those, such as the Marauders and Lily, who had helped him form the spell, had expressed their willingness to help him in anyway, trusting that he had had a plan to save them all. Their words of thanks in the form of those letters had just been used as evidence against him. It was a slap like nothing else had been in this ordeal.

Remus awoke on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. He could smell the odor of burnt walls and furniture, but the fire was long out. Water still dripped from the ceiling, plopping sporadically on the wet floor. A cluster of Gryffindors - third years by the look of them - were standing over near the stairwells talking quickly and pointing past Remus towards the portal.

Raising himself to an elbow, Remus looked around. The common room was mostly empty. The portal to the hall was wide open. He stood up and steadied himself. Remus felt as though someone had struck him hard in the head. His head ached with a fresh fire but he wanted to know what was going on.

With an unconscious limp, Remus stumbled over to the portal. He had just put one foot through when he felt a few arms grab him from behind. He tried to turn around and only succeeded in tripping and falling atop the Gryffindors who were trying to restrain him.

"Remus," coughed one as she climbed back to her feet. "You're not supposed to get up. They said you need to rest."

"Who?" he asked.

"The other seventh years," she answered.

"But…" he began.

"They insisted," said another young student. "They went to chase the men who attacked us."

"Then, I need to help," Remus stated determinedly.

"No," another student said, sounding surprised at his daring in speaking to a seventh year this way, "they're long gone by now. I doubt if the others were even able to catch up."

"I'm sure they'll be back in a moment," the first girl said.

Remus submitted. They led him back to the couch where he sat down. He would not lie down, not while his friends were still out there fighting. He did not have long to wait. All of the students who had gone out, the seventh years as well as many in the other years rushed back into the common room at once. The noise level escalated quickly. Everyone was speaking at once and to everyone.

Remus beckoned Sirius to him. Sirius looked delighted to see Remus awake. "Oy! James," he called, "He's awake!"

James and Peter followed Sirius to sit on the couch beside their friend. None of them looked too bad for the wear. Everyone appeared a little wet from all of the water. Sirius' long hair had signs of singing from the fire. Their robes were covered in a thin layer of soot, as Remus' was.

"What happened?" Remus asked the three.

"They ran off and we saw no sign of them," James answered straightly. "There were only two, as far as we can tell. We searched the castle and found no sign that they had bothered anyone else. The professors rushed upon us as we left the common room. They had heard the terrible sounds of the fire and came running. It was out when they arrived."

"Do we have any idea who they were?" Remus asked.

"No," Sirius answered, "No one so far has recognized their voices, unless…unless you knew them?"

"No," Remus answered, "I do not know those voices."

"What about Marcus?" Remus asked again, after a pause.

"He's alright," James answered, "just a bit shaken up. Ms. Pomfrey is seeing to him."

Despite the near miss, the school year ended normally. All the exams came and went and the students left for the summer or – in the seventh years' cases – forever. N.E.W.T. scores were due in a few weeks, and the seventh years had all taken a well-needed break before starting into the working world.

One day, a letter arrived by official Ministry of Magic owl. These owls always had the most immaculately groomed feathers, as though they had just stepped out of a display at Eyelops Owl Emporium. Remus had little time to wonder at it. N.E.W.T. results were not yet due back and he had had no other communication with the Ministry since his parents had died.

As all messages from the Ministry, this message was formal and forward.

Mr. Remus J. Lupin,

It has come to the attention of the attention of the Improper Use of Magic Office within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that you have recently created an unauthorized spell in the presence of fellow students. A formal investigation has been underway and your presence is requested at a Hearing on the 21st of July to determine punishment should the committee deem it necessary.

The formal complaint is as follows:

That Remus J. Lupin did produce a new spell without the authorization of Ministry Officials, without the proper testing and development necessary to ensure the safety of community members from the side and after effects of the spell. That he did in full knowledge of the consequences of his actions, involve other students in the creation of said spell without informing them of the non-spell status of the magical action beforehand. That he did create this potentially dangerous spell in the presence of students and underage students on property maintained and managed by funding from the Ministry of Magic.

The Hearing will begin promptly at 8:30 on the morning of the 21st of July of this year. As an adult at the time of the event, you may bring a solicitor or ask that the Ministry appoint one to you. Please contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for more details.

Have a pleasant day.

Regards,

Joanna Shannon  
Improper Use of Magic  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
Ministry of Magic

Remus had never seen anything quite like it. His eyes grew wider the longer he read the letter. He paused on the phrase "determine punishment" as though attempting to convince his eyes that they had correctly read it. Nothing changed, and he now felt scared, angry, and betrayed. The Ministry had never been his greatest advocates, as a werewolf, but he could not comprehend this affront.

Not only had he not met any commendation from the Ministry for saving the lives of his fellow students, but also he faced punished for it! Hogwarts had taken a very different view of it. He had received a Special Award in recognition of Outstanding Service to the School. Remus was hardly ever one to self-advocate, but this was beyond anything he had expected from the Ministry.

He informed his friends, by a series of owls, of his situation. They had responded with shock and vehemence for the Ministry. Sirius and Peter had come to see him the next day. Lily and James were on holiday with James' family in Australia, but their letters arrived a couple days after he had sent his. They came back early to help support him. Remus felt terrible that their holiday was cut so short, but they never complained about it.

It was Sirius' idea to gather up a set of commendation letters from fellow students to help Remus' case. He went off to communicate his idea to many of their fellow Gryffindors, as well as the professors, while Remus went to meet with his Ministry appointed solicitor.

"Mr. Remus Lupin, I presume?" asked an elderly wizard who took the vacant seat across from Remus. Remus looked up, shielding his eyes from the bright summer sun as it crossed midway through the sky.

Remus stood and took the man's hand. "And you are Mr. Johansen, was it?" he asked.

"Yes," the stately Johansen answered, "but call me Edgar."

"Remus to you, then," Remus said with a smile.

"As you will," the solicitor said. "Might we take a seat?"

"Of course," Remus said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "I've ordered a banana sherbet. If you would like anything…"

"No, no thank you," Edgar answered, patting his stomach, "the wife's trying to keep me from turning into a balloon lately. I'm on a strict diet, but by all means, enjoy your sherbet."

They sat along the nearly empty Diagon Alley at the famous Ice Cream shop. Remus had had many a fair conversation with the owner during his summers before school. He had proposed the place as a place for meeting, since they would have relative privacy at this point in the summer. It was too early for families preparing for the return to Hogwarts, and many of the shops had closed for summer holidays.

"You received a copy of the charges against me, then?" Remus asked.

"Yes," the solicitor answered. "It is a truly unusual charge these days. Very few people create their own spells."

"Well," Remus answered, "I hadn't intended to use it openly like that, but we had a pressing need."

"Which was?" the solicitor asked. As they began, he had pulled out a quill and parchment and bent over it writing in minute script. He looked up when he asked a question, looking rather like a chameleon with his eyes rolled up to the top of their sockets to look at him.

"Two men meant to make entry into the Gryffindor common room," Remus began. "We could hear them outside, attacking the entrance, but they were unsuccessful at gaining entry. At that point, one of them grew angry and sent _Fiendfyre_ into the wall."

"And your spell did what, exactly?" Edgar asked, looking up at Remus' moment of pause.

"It extinguished the _Fiendfyre_," Remus answered. "It was a water spell. _Angelis Anguanti_, I named it. As the _Fiendfyre_ acts like demonic fire attackers, _Angelis_ intelligently washes out and smothers fire, including _Fiendfyre_."

"So," the solicitor asked, "you contend that your spell was only used in the state of dire emergency. Is there another way to extinguish _Fiendfyre_?"

"None that I am aware of," Remus answered. "There could be, but I have never learned that magic."

"We will need to know for certain," the solicitor stated. "The committee will know; they have the resources of the Ministry behind them."

"Just because another solution is possible, they can't assume I would know it, could they?" Remus asked.

Edgar did not answer. He merely shrugged and finished writing his last note. "Now," the solicitor asked, "are there any other circumstances that are a factor here? Is there anything I need to know about in relation to this case or to your past record that the committee might bring forward (previous misuse of magic, etc.)?"

"Well," Remus answered, "I am a werewolf. I know that is not too popular with many people."

"I should say not!" said Edgar, suddenly redder in the face than before, and looking over at Remus with a look close to disgust.

A silence fell between them. Edgar did not ask any other questions. He sat there looking off at what Remus could only guess was a loose cobblestone on the street. The awkwardness of the moment grew exponentially.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked.

The man ignored him for a moment. Remus frowned. He had worried that he would face some dislike in the real world. He had hoped that his solicitor would be above that. The man was educated and intelligent; at least, he ought to be.

"Does my being a werewolf bother you, Edgar?" Remus asked, kindly.

"Don't call me that, werewolf," Edgar answered, looking at him with a look of distrust.

'I guess that answers that question,' Remus said to himself. To Edgar, he said, "You do know that my hearing is in the middle of the day? You will not be in any danger."

"One is never safe around a _monster_," Edgar said, sullenly.

"Look," Remus said, emphasizing the first word, "let us concentrate on my defense. You have been hired to defend me against these charges and …"

"What does that matter?" the solicitor asked. "The moment the committee hears _what_ you are, no evidence will help you."

"That's why I have a solicitor," Remus answered, "to cut through the character attacks and debate the heart of the matter, isn't it?"

The solicitor would not answer again. Remus began to grow angry. He disliked the look of this man. His scrunched up, stubborn forehead and pouting cheeks did little to encourage Remus. His consistent insults did little to sell him to Remus, as well.

"Oy!" Remus nearly shouted, "Can you or can you not defend me in this matter?"

"I," the man answered, turning fully away, "cannot."

"Why the hell not?" Remus asked, furious. "You know you are in no real danger. What would I do in a hearing that could cause you any trouble? What have I done to you at all? I know the Ministry is leaning hard on werewolves at this point. Of all people, I know that! That doesn't change the fact that I am a client and I need your help!"

"Your kind," the man began, growing extremely red in the face, "you freaks cause nothing but trouble for society. You are MONSTERS and I will have nothing to do with defending one of your kind. If they chuck you in Azkaban it would be too kind, in my opinion."

Remus was red now. He fumed at the prejudice. He had an increasing urge to strike the man, but held back. "You're fired. Get out of here!" Remus yelled at him, pointing down the row. "Why would I want a second rate solicitor anyway?" The man, angry-looking still, stood abruptly, crumpling up the scroll he had been writing on, and stormed away. Remus sat stock-still. His back arched as he hunched over the table. How could a man hate so much a man he had just met? Remus realized he hated the man just as much for his display of prejudice, but the thought did nothing to quell that anger.

Remus had to meet back up with his friends for lunch after that. They had planned to meet at the Leaky Cauldron because of Remus' meeting with his solicitor. After sitting for another half hour staring vacantly at the slushy remains of his sherbet, Remus rose unsteadily to his feet. He left the seat pushed a few feet out from the table in a reflection of the chair Edgar had left behind. As he walked away, Remus could hear the wait staff rushing over to straighten up the table and prepare it for the odd customer that might arrive at any time. He paid them no mind.

The storefronts of Diagon Alley had never appeared so unfriendly. Many of the shops had closed for the holidays, and even the open ones were sparsely populated. A dozen birds had gathered around, fighting over a piece of stray food, dropped by some uncaring passerby. The street, itself, was otherwise empty. Remus walked slowly along the way, feeling the uneven cobblestones sway his body as he went.

The weather had taken on an overcast turn since he had arrived. Clouds had rolled in and covered the sky. The wind that accompanied it shook the shutters on the storefronts, twirled bits of garbage, and disturbed the birds anxiously intent upon the last specks of food. Remus felt the warm wind sweep through his hair and robes, bringing only a premonition of rain soon to follow.

Near the middle of the row, he passed a small shop that was still open, but no one was inside. Remus gave but a passing look at the stuffed scarecrow seated in a chair at the entrance. He only had a moment to wonder what Wizarding sale would need a scarecrow when it spoke to him.

"Your troubles have only begun," it said, straw-filled mouth moving smoothly. "Friend shall turn on friend. Enemies abound. You cannot trust your own memories. Your greatest successes will become your greatest failures."

Remus gawked. It was not that the scarecrow had talked; animation spells were simple enough. The sudden and specific prophecy, especially following such a terrible meeting with his solicitor, unnerved him. It did not speak again or acknowledge his presence. He did not approach it or respond. He did not want to provoke it into more prophecy.

'I don't believe in fate or prophecy,' he told himself. 'Then why does this bother you?' another part asked. 'I'm still angry at Edgar, at the Ministry.' 'That's the spirit! Get angry with people who cannot help being as they are. That'll clear everything up for you.' 'Shut up.'

Remus continued walking down the deserted street. He decided, after a time of pondering, that it was just a series of factors: the emptiness of the street, his own worries about his future, the hearing, the prejudiced solicitor, and the weather that had disturbed him. Prophecies never meant a lick to him. After all, you made your own future by how you react to what happens. Waiting for predestined events will not help at all.

Before he reached the Leaky Cauldron, the sky opened up and dumped a torrent of rain upon him. He did not race for cover, but continued, slowly, oblivious to the chill he began to feel. By the time he had passed back through the brick wall into the bar, his shirt clung to his back and his hair hung, dripping, in his eyes. He brushed back his hair casually and plodded on through the doorway into Leaky's main area. Jim staffed the bar, as he had ever since Remus could remember. He was the sole owner and operator, hiring on only occasional extra staff when the late summer and winter crowds poured in.

Jim looked up from restocking bottles of firewhisky and dragon breath from a large carton that he, from all appearances, had lugged in from the back room. He appeared almost as wet with sweat as Remus was with rainwater. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he called over, "What'll ya have?"

Remus quickly scanned the room, seeing that his friends were not here yet. "I'll have a dragon heart on the rocks."

"Dragon heart on the rocks it is," Jim answered cheerily. He put the three bottles he was lifting onto a spare space on the counter, stepped away from the box, and began to prepare the drink. "Firs customer of the day. Didn' expect none before t' evenin'."

Remus grunted and walked away from the bar to a booth to the left side of the bar. He would wait for his friends here. The table was of a hard wood design. The legs had talon feet pointed towards the four corners of the booth, as though threatening any of the customers against doing it damage. The tabletop was bare except for a set of salt and pepper shakers, a wilting short potted-plant, and three spare napkins littered liberally about the table.

Jim hustled over with a drink of jet black. When he placed it on the table, the jolt unseated a small glass hooked onto the inside of the glass rim, a drizzle of red liquid dripped into the glass, swirling actively around the edge of the glass in spirals towards the base. Before Remus took the glass, Jim, tipped the remainder of the red liquid into the mixture and left Remus to watch the drink's show.

Dragon heart on the rocks was a mixture of Firewhiskey and dark rum with a side shot of dragon breath, a spicy, tomato-based drink, over ice, of course. Something in the preparation or elemental properties in the drinks made it react so colorfully. It was for this, not the heavy and sharp flavor that Remus had purchased it. He never cared too much for the flavor, but it was distracting.

It began beating out patterns in red and black upon the surface of the glass. They were random and incessant. It was said a few divination masters had taken to watching dragon heart drinks to learn the future. No one ever said it was successful. Then again, no one ever said that it failed.

Lily and James arrived. The pair of them came in, hand-in-hand, with smiles of determination on their faces. With a sweeping glance, James saw Remus in his corner and ushered Lily over there. They saw the grimace on Remus' face as they approached and adjusted their smiles into looks of concern, appropriately.

"Hello Remus," they said.

He looked up and gave them a flat smile. "Hello," he said. He waved them to the booth side across from him.

"What's wrong, Remus?" Lily asked, beating James to it.

"Yeah, mate," James added, "You don't look so well, and you're soaked!"

"Well," Remus began. "The meeting with my solicitor did not go over so well."

"Why?" James and Lily asked, surprised. They had all discussed the meeting beforehand and assumed that the case was simple in Remus' favor. He had done what he needed to do to save students' lives. That should have made it straightforward.

"He has certain prejudices," Remus answered, "which compelled him to be incredibly rude towards me and all but refuse to help."

"You don't mean he…" James began, looking affronted.

"Sorry, lady and gents," Jim said, suddenly standing over them. "Could I help you with a drink to accompany your friend's?"

"Er, a Firewhiskey on the rocks for me," James answered, "and Lily will want her Goblinberry Sweet?"

"That's Elvenberry Sweet," Lily corrected him, with a laugh. James turned a little red. "Almost got it, that time," she said with an endearing look.

Jim smiled and walked off to get their orders. The mood dropped again. Jim's presence had reminded them all of the possible ears in the place.

"You mean your furry little problem?" James asked.

"Yes," Remus answered.

James and Lily gave each other a look before speaking. Remus sat there, grasping his untouched glass of Dragon heart and looking at the table in front of him.

"Remus," Lily began, softly. "I'm sure you must feel awful about this."

" No," Remus answered, "It's alright, really."

" Mate," James said, "You don't have to pretend."

" No," he said, "I'm fine. At first, I was angry with him. I guess I should have expected something like this. Some prejudices go too deep. I fired him. I don't think he would have done a good job the way he was acting."

James said. "If he were here, I'd do more than that. I'd give him a piece of my mind."

Lily rolled her eyes. "What I think James is saying is that we're sorry this happened to you and want to help however we can."

"That's right!" James said enthusiastically. "We already have a dozen students and teachers writing letters to help with your defense."

"That's great," Remus said, dully. Seeing the look on their faces, he added with more emphasis, "Really _it is_. I'm glad to have you guys to help me out."

In the moment of silence that followed, Jim returned with Lily and James' drinks. He put the drinks down with a smile and slipped off to the bar. The sound of clinking bottles told Remus that Jim had gone back to restocking. Lily tapped her fingers on the glass, fingernails tinkling softly in a melody Remus could not remember later.

Remus spoke first. "I have decided to defend myself. So, I will need all the help I can get."

He smiled and his friends joined him. The mood lightened for the first time since they had arrived. They discussed the impending hearing and their impressions of what it would be like. Remus had his friend's support, and that lightened his preparations greatly.

All of his friends had their new jobs, of course. James was in Auror training. Lily had followed her own strengths and had joined Phineus' Potions Producers. Peter and Sirius had gone the ways they had envisioned from school. Sirius now flew for the Montrose Magpies, a historically famous team. So far, he only trained with them, but in time, he was sure he would make them proud.

Despite their work and studies, they all helped him develop his case and collect the letters he would need as evidence in his defense. Of all the things after the arrival of that letter, their presence and company kept him from despairing of his situation. Yet, here, now, he stood facing the panel. All of his help and protection seemed to fall away. His friend's help had turned into a weapon against him. He felt the arguments they had developed together stuck to the bottom of his mouth with his tongue.

It seemed the committee had made up their mind already. Remus could think of nothing to tell them that would sway their minds. After they heard he was a werewolf, Remus could sense a strong shift in opinion among even the most honest of the bunch. The stricter ones had never given him a chance to begin with.

Further, it almost felt a betrayal to his fellow Gryffindors to try to justify himself to this committee with the truth of his heroism. His actions ought to speak for themselves. They apparently did not. Remus did not enjoy talking about himself. He didn't know if it would have made sense to anyone else, but, for some reason, he felt that even putting on a defense against this inevitability was a betrayal towards himself.

Still, he had to say something.

"Committee members, ladies, and gentlemen" he said, addressing the panel and the audience before him. "You ask me to defend myself. I find it difficult to do so. Everything you have stated is true. I did all of these things and you have more than enough witnesses to the events that a confession or lack thereof can have little bearing on the case."

"However," said Remus, beginning to pace slowly between the left and right ends of the room, "I still find it impossible that I am here before you. The full circumstances of the case were clearly stated by one, if not all, of those eyewitness testimonies up on your bench. That, knowing these circumstances and understanding their impact, this committee still intends to press these allegations as surely as if I had walked into your offices at the Ministry and created the spell for kicks astounds me.

"There are special circumstances that necessitate that men break rules. I do not know with what authority the decision of which circumstances these are ought to rest. In this case, it appears that it rests with you. I look to you to see the necessity here. I do not see how it could be used as a precedent against your law. How often do the lives of fifty-five children come in harm's way? If I had not acted, you would have no letters. We fought the _Fiendfyre_, but we were only putting off the inevitable. In a minute more, the _Fiendfyre_ would have won, and we would be dead."

Remus saw his friends in the audience. Their eyes were wide. He had not followed their planned arguments. He was speaking off the top of his head. Remus had begun to feed off the anger within him. It was like spitting out a particularly nasty substance in his mouth and removing a heavy weight from his chest. It felt good.

"Yet, still you sit, smugly on your bench, superior and far away. What would any of you have done had you stood there? Your granddaughter, Mr. Callahan," Remus said, directing his comment at a member on the second row, "was among the children in danger. Does this mean nothing to you? Her letter is in the mix, I believe, written as well as any other first year. None of you saw their fear, the first years cowering in terror in the corner furthest from the _Fiendfyre_. None of you saw the dawning knowledge of impending death as it spread among the elder students. I did. I acted. We lived.

"My friends and I had developed a solid defense, a well-formed, calm detailed account of events and reasons. It was to impress upon you the necessity and practicability of my actions. I thank them for their efforts. I would have presented this case had you followed decorum. To take our evidence, these eyewitness accounts of the event, to bear against me, that is…is a monstrosity.

"If this is the justice and fairness of the Ministry, then I have no question as to my further opinion of the Ministry. Heroic acts are condemned. Solicitors and committee members alike display open prejudices where they ought to display some professional objectivity. It has no place for werewolves, for those victimized from a young age by no fault of their own. It calls _us_ monsters and displaces us from the rest of society. It demonizes us and ties us all, unfairly, in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"I think I do see, now, how the Ministry could let such darkness overtake the country. Its own prejudices and lack of justice fester like a sore on the side of society and the dark forces feed upon that, growing their numbers and taking bolder and swifter actions against it."

Remus paused, seeing how far he had flown from the topic at hand. No one spoke. He saw his friends looked upset and anxious. They had suffered so much at his behest. His anger did not subside, despite this sudden remorse. It was time to end this. He spoke again in a quieter, more reserved tone.

"Forgive my angry words. I am still shocked. Find me guilty or innocent of this alleged wrong. I do not care now. I have done what I could. I would do it again in the same situation. Whatever the outcome, the time before us will not be easy. We all have enough to worry about in the months to come. The dark clouds approach. I leave the decision to you."

Remus sat down again. He did not look up; he stared at a random spot on the floor before him. The committee turned in towards the elder head and discussed, briefly. The elder looked down at Remus when they had finished conferring.

"Mr. Remus J. Lupin, The Department of Magical Law Enforcement's Improper Use of Magic committee finds you guilty of all charges and fines you the sum of Seven Hundred Galleons in punitive damages. Case dismissed."

The committee stood and exited the row through a backdoor into the corridor beyond. Remus continued to sit as he had before, still staring at the floor with disinterest. The audience drifted out. Their interest in the case waning as fast as it had initially grown. His friends alone remained, sitting in stunned silence in their seats.

Never mind that he could not possibly afford the money he now owed. He had no chance of working in his chosen profession. No business with a reputation to lose would have him. A Ministry decision reverberated throughout the Wizarding world like a stone thrown in a pond. When everyone had left, Remus raised his head, face reflecting bitterness and anger, as he looked into the faces of his friends.


	16. Chapter 16: Curious Meetings

A pair of scallop dredge boats sat tucked into port on either side of a long, thin pier along the river Dee. The pier was deserted as evening set in. The boats rocked gently in the quiet river flow as the town of Kirkcudbright prepared to sleep. From along the shoreline, a single man walked slowly, strolling along until he came to the pier.

From all appearances, he was rather tall and lanky with wild black hair that fell, shoulder-length, upon his caped back. His dress was rather formal for the location, but he wore it loosely and easily. His face was drawn and a little sickly, as though years of anxieties had aged him prematurely. His eyes, in particular, reflected a lack of sleep.

This man took a deliberate left turn onto the pier, walking slowly along until he reached the end of it. He seemed to take no interest in the boats on either side, but stared out across the water with interest. A spectator would not have wondered at this. Down the river, some six miles, lay the sea. The sea was far more interesting than the water up close. Even from here, the violence of a storm could be seen. The water rose in violent ridges off the coast under the dark clouds and turbulent, rain-filled air.

The storm had left Kirkcudbright out of its path so far, presenting a beautiful and terrible close look at the storm while keeping the observer at a safe distance. The man watched the rotating clouds and violent sea over the calm, steady river and twilit township. A man approached from behind. This man was shorter, dressed more raggedly than the other, but shared that tired facial expression.

The footsteps stopped behind the first man. Both stood quietly for a moment, as though lost in the view before them. The former gave no acknowledgment of his follower. The follower had walked as directly, but from the opposite direction, to meet this other man here at this spot.

"So," said the first, not looking back, after a time, "you have come."

"Yes," said the latter. "I have."

"I take it," the first continued, "that you were not followed?"

"Yes," the second answered, "no one knows where I am."

"Good," the first said and turned. "Well met, my old friend."

The two embraced and looked at each other. It had been many, many years for both of them, but each could see in the other a small part of what they had once known. Remus could see in his tall friend little that remained of the young, fun-loving Igor he had known. There was still somewhat of a glint in his eyes of the troublemaker, but it faded as the twilight dipped another hue.

As Remus had walked up, he had studied the silhouette of his old friend, trying to imagine his years at Durmstrang and beyond, trying to understand what had brought him to this moment. Igor's face hid so much. It had once given so freely of itself. Remus began to wonder self-consciously how much he had changed since...back then.

"It has been a long time," Remus said, not sure of what to say. What do you say to a friend taken from you so long ago?

"Yes," Igor answered, beaming at Remus. "I have heard great things of you at Hogwarts."

"Well, some wouldn't say as much," Remus said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"The Ministry has always had a problem with people who stick out," Igor said, "people like us. It deals in rules to dictate how everyone from the least capable to the most accomplished must act. Even your illustrious Headmaster, Dumbledore, has had his brushes of trouble with them."

"Yes," Remus said.

"But that is history, now," Igor said with a pleasant smile. "I hear you have nothing to do with the Ministry these days."

"I...I can't," Remus answered, "even if I wanted to. I can't afford to pay the fine they levied."

"Yes," Igor said, sympathetically, "How do they expect people to pay fines if they keep them from getting jobs?"

"I dunno," Remus answered, turning to look at a ripple that had appeared in the middle of the water. Some air had surfaced with a slight bubble - probably loosed from the inside of a turtle's shell as it turned. "So, your note says you have a job. Does it pay well?"

"Please, Remus," Igor responded, "let's not dive into business so quickly."

"But I am desperate for work, Igor," Remus answered, his face revealed the strain he was under. "I have more debts than that public one. The family home could be taken away any day, and I don't know where to turn then."

"What of your school friends?" Igor asked, concerned. "I have heard James and Sirius, at least, are fairly well off. Surely such great friends as these would help out in a pinch."

"Sirius has family problems," Remus said with a sigh. "He's making enough to support himself, but he cannot afford to hand out large sums to his friends, Peter and Lily are doing about as well. As for James, we have had a disagreement recently that I would not go into."

"I see," Igor answered, considering.

"Besides," Remus said, suddenly fierce, "I do not want hand outs. I can work. I want to earn my way. My father did not raise a son to leach off others. He would be ashamed of me. I would be ashamed."

"Your sense of honor is commendable, my old friend," Igor said, his long exposure to his classmates in Durmstrang more evident now in his voice than Remus had noticed before. "It is rare in these times."

"So," Remus asked, abruptly, "What is the job?"

"It's a delivery job," Igor said, "but the cargo is fairly sensitive. It requires a master at spell casting, and that's where you come in."

"Why not work through the Ministry?" Remus asked. "They have transportation crews that are efficient and have exquisite records for delivering powerful and dangerous substances."

"Are you trying to talk me out of hiring you?" Igor asked, laughing. "My employer wishes, like yourself, to avoid Ministry red tape for the moment. I have given him the utmost promise that you can handle the job and he is more than happy to help you with your debts."

"Does your employer have a name?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He would prefer his identity is kept anonymous, as well, by the terms of the contract," Igor said, pulling out a single sheet of paper. It was a very simple contract, detailing that neither party would contact each other directly, but would work through Igor as intermediary. The per job payment stood at one thousand five hundred galleons.

"One thousand five...!" Remus choked out as he read the terms.

"Per delivery," Igor added, chuckling. "As I said, it is very sensitive, and you will need to be most alert during transport."

"How many deliveries?" Remus asked.

"We have a few lined up initially, and more will follow, depending, of course on your ability to deliver."

"Of course," Remus answered. His face betrayed a mixture of surprise and relief. "This, this is amazing. This could clear all my debt so quickly."

"Yes," Igor answered. "And all taxes to the Ministry will be handled for you, the number you see is after tax."

"Wow!" Remus exclaimed. "Igor! How can I ever thank you?"

"I'll think of a way, I'm sure," Igor answered, his voice returning to the young, roguish British boy's for a moment. "Your first assignment is inspired by your recent heroism. You created this spell, _Angelis_, wasn't it?"

"_Angelis Aguanti_," Remus responded. "It is intelligent water that can hunt down and destroy fire."

"Can it also simply contain fire?" Igor asked, seriously.

"Yes, I suppose," Remus answered, looking down with a concentrated expression. "The theory is the same. All you would have to do is focus on protecting and shielding than seeking. Yes, I am sure it would work."

"Good," Igor answered, smiling. "Your first delivery is a torch of Gubrathian Fire from and to the addresses on this parchment. Please memorize the addresses and destroy the parchment."

Remus asked, taking the sheet from his friend, "Isn't Gubrathian Fire benign, though?"

"Not this batch," Igor said, "Unfortunately, my employer wants a source from a master whose fire is a bit wilder than most. It shouldn't give you too much trouble, but if left to its own devices, it could be quite dangerous."

Remus felt a shiver roll through him. He was to move an eternal fire with a wild streak. This substance could consume everything in existence unless kept under constant control. "He does know that it will need to be controlled at all times, right?" Remus asked, burning the paper he had committed to memory, "Even after I have brought it to him it will not be safe."

"My employer is aware and has prepared the proper facilities to handle such fire," Igor answered. "You're not the only person who is skilled with taming fire."

After a pause, Igor went on, "Do not fret over such details. All you have to concern yourself with is delivering the item safely and quietly. You will receive your fee upon arrival."

"How will I contact you to find out the next delivery?" Remus asked, eyes still wide from reading the sum on the contract.

"I will get in touch with you," Igor answered.

A noise from some distance along the bank made both men start. With a look and a nod, Igor Disapparated on the spot. Remus didn't wait to see what the sound was. He turned, felt the crushing sensation of Apparition, and was suddenly in an isolated field a hundred miles away.

The note requesting the meeting had been very clear not to go directly to or from his or a friend's house. Remus and his family had come to this field and the nearby tiny village on holiday once. The many days he had spent losing himself in the land about were still dear to him. Also, no one he knew would connect him to it. From here, he could reappear anywhere with no one being the wiser. Yet, he paused.

For a moment, he held still, enjoying the early fall air. The leaves whistled of cold days soon to come, and the ground hardened from lack of rainfall. It was a field of the springtime. In spring, it flourished with hundreds of tiny creatures and plant life that often fled in the later months of the year. The field lay in the middle of a pocket of a valley, hidden from the world beyond. Here lay tranquility in autumn.

The sky grew dimmer as the last rays of the setting sun fell away, the twilight Remus had visited in Kirkcudbright finally bidding him farewell. Just as the light transitioned, ostensibly losing its bright daytime dress for the gown of night, a flash of burning fire appeared a foot in front of Remus's face.

It flashed for an instant, bedazzling the eye, and, as suddenly, it was gone. Remus watched it as one watches a waddling line of ducks. As the flame departed, sucked into a vacuum Remus could not see, from that same recess a thin parchment of paper appeared. It floated downward with ease, fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. Remus caught it and read the single line upon its face: "Well done."

With that, the parchment burned away, as though the fire had returned for the last piece of kindling that had escaped from its grasp. Without a word or thought, Remus spun again and was gone.

* * *

The argument with James was not a lie. James and Remus had had an awful fight about Lily. It was not something anyone wants to happen, but, in retrospect, many would have said they saw it coming. Remus never thought of Lily as anything more than a great friend. That had always been the case. Everyone knew it; even James. Still, in these tender stages of blooming love one's mind and heart do not always align.

It so happened, that a week after the hearing, Lily and James had had a lunch date planned. She was to take a long lunch from her potion's job, and he had begged his Auror trainers to let him skive off just a tiny bit. Unlike the James they knew in school, this James took his Auror training very seriously. Remus thought it had something to do with Lily and a great deal to do with the state of England.

The Ministry, as Remus had predicted, continued to weaken and waffle on more and more issues. The decisive judgment against Remus was one of the last measures it had taken without an immediate - and mysterious - retraction or revision. The claws of the dark wizard were deep within the flesh of the Ministry. James took this personally.

He had become moodier and moodier as the days passed into weeks following Remus' fine. No one could completely account for it, except to point at the state of things and say, "so it is." Remus had little interaction with his friend since the trial. His friends had done their best to comfort him, but he had been in such shock that he had had little to say.

Remus, not knowing about the lunch plans Lily had with James, had come to visit Lily at her work, another morning of failed job applications behind him. Lily, exiting the facility, walked towards the designated Apparition Point. This was twenty feet from the facility entrance, as decreed by Ministry Statute XXII(c)1.3b, for the protection of Apparators in the vicinity of a facility with dangerous magical equipment.

Remus hopped up from a bench along the front as she approached. With a wave, he caught her attention and she shifted her course towards him. Remus had a threadbare suit on - it had belonged to his uncle. His uncle had moved formally to the Continent, leaving Remus with the family property to which he was entitled and little else. His uncle had never been too well off, himself.

Despite his continued lack of success in job seeking, Remus managed a smile for his friend. She smiled back as she approached.

"Hi, Lily," Remus said.

"Hello," she replied. "How's the search?"

"As delightful as ever," Remus answered with dull sarcasm in his voice. "You have lunch plans?"

"Oh," Lily answered, "Yes, actually. James is expecting me."

"Of course," Remus said, "I won't intrude."

"I'm sure it will be fine with him," Lily said, hurriedly. Something in the look on Remus' face told her he didn't really want to be on his own for lunch. His jokes about his job search never fooled her. It hurt him every time he failed.

"Really," Remus said. "I don't want to be a bother. If you have a lunch date, that's fine. I can always see you another time."

"No, no," she asserted, "It's alright. I'm sure James will be happy to see you. It has been a few days, right?"

"Yes," he answered reluctantly. "If you think it's alright, I'll come."

"Excellent!" Lily exclaimed. "Let's go. Just side-along with me. He's off at his training site. I don't think you've been there yet."

Remus and Lily walked over to the designated Apparation area. He put his arm around her waist and held on. They turned and fell through the dark tunnel of Apparation. Remus had long grown accustomed to the forces tugging at him in the tunnel. Still, it never grew more comfortable. In a moment, they were there.

They arrived at the edge of a large hay field. The grass grew high as the summer began. Remus could just make out waving sections of grass nearby as Auror's in training maneuvered through the difficult visibility. They were using magic to guide them and fighting with unseen opponents. Remus thought that it was an interesting mode of training.

"Hey!" a voice came from behind them, "What are you doing?"

Remus and Lily turned. He realized his hand was still around her waist as he saw James storming towards them. James looked furious. Remus pulled his hand away and stepped back instinctively. Lily looked alarmed but didn't move.

Remus put his hands out in front of him in a pacifying gesture. "We just Apparated here together. I didn't know the w-"

James had continued in and punched Remus in the jaw. Remus saw his world spun and found himself on the ground. His hands hurt from scraping the gravel on the side of the road they had appeared upon. His vision went blurry for a second, and his face felt hot.

James stood over him, shaking with rage. Lily had jumped into action, tugging at James' arm. "James, I invited him to lunch with us. We just Apparated here."

James ignored her. His eyes were fixed on Remus with a look Remus had never seen in anyone's face. He had seen dislike, disgust, even hatred of him as a werewolf, but this was something beyond that. This was jealousy amplified.

Remus pulled himself upright, angry now, too. James and Remus stared daggers at each other. James stood tall in his Auror-in-training robes, clean and polished. Remus had a tired slouch in dirty hand-me-down robes and mussed hair; he wiped the blood from his lip with his sleeve. Two further opposites would be difficult to find. James was angry because of Remus' connection with Lily; Remus was angry at the injustice of this and every other part of his life. In the last few weeks, anger had come easily when there was hardly any provocation. A physical attack was more than enough to set him off.

He grew deaf to Lily's speech. Remus only saw James, fists raised against him, and he lunged. The force of his dive carried both James and himself tumbling down the hill into the field. Each punched and tore at the other's clothing and, more often, the side of the hill as they rolled. James grumbled angrily and incoherently, the name Lily stuck out at intervals. Remus only grunted.

When they came to a stop at the base of the hill, they continued to flail at each other. Most of their strikes missed their intended targets. Remus felt a snake unraveling in his gut. It was like a fire that consumed him and controlled his limbs. His mind was held captive. Afterwards, he could not remember what specifically had made him so angry.

In a moment, the two were separated. Several of James' fellow trainees had their wands drawn, repelling the two from each other. A moment of silence fell. Remus could hear sniffling coming from Lily's direction. The pain fell upon him once more. Remus could feel blood trickling down his cheek and could taste it in his mouth.

James spoke first. "You...you stay away from her!" he spat.

Remus glared back, "Fine!" He turned to the wizards magically restraining him. "Let me go. I'm leaving." Turning back towards James, he added a parting thrust, "You can go to hell."

With that, he stepped back and spun into nothingness.

It had all happened suddenly, and moments later Remus had regretted it. Still, despite the urging of all of his friends, Lily (by owl), Sirius, and Peter, he had made no effort to speak with James again. In fact, he had gone out of his way to avoid all of his friends whenever possible.

In the week before his visit with Igor, Remus had spoken with no one. He had left his home abandoned and used what small money he had to rent a wreck of a flat in Muggle London. With the galleon-pound conversion rate, Remus figured he could live for a month, more or less, before he ran out. He received a mysterious note from Igor one morning. That was his first communication with the Wizarding world after leaving it.

* * *

Remus crossed an unlit alleyway in the dead of night. The roadway was slick with an eternal dampness that plagued this part of the city like a sore. He counted doorways as he walked, one, two, three...eight. That was it. Nighttime cloaked the doorway in a darker shadow than the alley around it. Remus could just make out a symbol at the head of the door. The symbol was indistinct, faded, and unlit; however, Remus could make out some wavy lines rising from the top of the door.

After a brief pause, Remus knocked at the door twice in rapid succession. He waited ten more seconds, and then repeated the knock. The door opened abruptly and Remus' eyes were dazzled. The light from within was strong. It filled the darkness without and made the cold, damp alley feel suddenly bright and cheery.

Remus entered and the door closed behind him. No one had opened the door. Having lived in the magical world long enough, this did not surprise him at all. What intrigued him was the flame hovering in the air before him. It seemed to beckon him, bending back and forth from him towards a hallway to the right. Remus nodded and stepped forward. The flame proceeded him, lighting his way. It was this flame, he noticed, that illuminated the room so fully. It was brilliant and soothing at once.

Despite the fire, the air was not warm or dry. It felt like a calm fall afternoon without the customary breeze. The hallway they passed through was undecorated and short. It led into the master chamber. This was a great room, far too large to fit in the space the building enclosed. It was decorated in an older style, much like the drawing rooms of the previous century. Above the mantle was a large seal. It was an elaborately decorative flame, and Remus realized it was this sign that he had seen at the door.

The room gave off a little more heat than the hallway behind him, and Remus could see why. Besides the tiny flame he had followed in, there was a great blaze at the far end of the room. It gave off no smoke, but burned smoothly and strongly. It also rested upon the form of a very tall, very broad old man.

If he had stood, his head might have scraped the ceiling, high as it was. He reclined upon an enormous, emerald green sofa that was singed in a few places. The feet of the sofa were troll legs, solid and immovable beneath the great weight. The man himself was bright red in the face, as though burning on the inside. His clothing hung loosely about him, unburned and unkempt. His eyes were yellow and piercing. Right now, they were piercing through Remus' own eyes.

Remus realized he had stared too long. He bowed and said what he had been instructed to say, "Master, my employer has sent me to request of you a sliver of the flames that you have -"

"Hold," came the booming voice. Remus froze. He watched the old man with seriousness. Never had he met so commanding a presence. With but a word, Remus' speech was quenched and extinguished.

The man paused, watching Remus curiously. After a time, he spoke again. "Better," he said. "We have time enough to speak of serious things, but not as we just meet. Who are you, child?"

"I...I am Remus Lupin, master," Remus answered. Igor's letter had specifically instructed him to call this man master. It was a mark of honor that he had earned.

"Remus? Remus?" the man asked the air, as though hoping to part a smokey passageway in his mind. "I have no such acquaintance as this. Who are you?"

"We have never met before, master," Remus answered. "I am son of Gregorio and Stephania Lupin. I graduated from Hogwarts little more than a month ago."

"These are facts you speak," the master stated. "I asked who you are."

Remus hesitated. 'What?' he thought. 'How would I introduce myself differently than that?'

"You do know who you are, don't you?" asked the old man.

"I don't know what you mean," Remus answered, pausing. "Perhaps if you were to tell me who you are I would understand what you wish to know."

"Oh ho!" the man boomed, "You seem to know me already. You have called me master from the first. Do you even know what I am master of?"

Remus felt his confusion growing. He was here to transport fire from one place to another. Why was he being subjected to a list of questions?

"I was told you work with fire," Remus answered. "You have created a great and powerful Gubrathian Fire that is unique only to you."

"Quite correct," the old man boomed. "Again, these are facts. You seem obsessed with the recitation of facts. Do these facts define the whole of me?"

"I suppose," Remus answered, crinkling his forehead, "they do not. No single thing does."

"Excellent," the man answered. "You are thinking now. Just as your deceased parents and school do not define you, my profession does not define me."

Remus looked more sharply at him, alarmed. "How...how did you know they were dead?" he asked.

"Your father was a good friend to me, once," the master answered, "He did me a great service and I followed his career with interest. I heard of his and his wife's deaths with a heavy heart. I knew more of you from your name than you have told me since. Except for one thing, one important thing."

The man paused, shifting his position on the couch to lean more towards Remus. "Both times that I asked you who you were, you avoided saying what most would feel is your defining characteristic. You are a werewolf."

Remus moved uncomfortably. He watched the face before him with some trepidation. If this man was as biased as so many in society, his cause was lost and he would not earn the pay he needed so desperately. Left and right, this accursed affliction cut at him, preventing his motion at every turn.

"You say nothing, further confirming what I have learned," the master continued. "You have suffered for this label. Your trust and hope in other humans is damaged by it, damaged but unbroken. Were it broken, you would have left me as soon as you found I had learned the truth, yet here you stand."

Remus sighed, "It has not been an easy road."

"It will be harder, still," the man said. "When the world brands you a monster, it does not loosen its grip. It connives and contrives to send you from the public square into the deepest alleys, trapping you in a corner, forcing you to prove your monstrous ways in self-defense. When they can do this, you will be held captive, and watched forever thereafter.

"The Ministry was always uneasy about my Fire Methods. They urged me to branch out, to seek safer studies, use conventional testing. No one could do a thing until I had made a slip. One day, I lit myself ablaze, much as you see me now. I had discovered the power to harness and control fire at its core, to hold it near to me without damage. The Ministry did not like the idea.

"One day, a young Ministry official came to convince me 'yet again' that my actions were dangerous and threatened Ministry action. She incited my anger and was burned. Now, I am confined to my home for so long as I still cling to my ways with fire. If I die, this home will go up in flames, but will contain the fire, controlled and harmless to others. My Gubrathian mantle will live on."

Remus looked up in shock. He watched the fire calmly licking at the man's body, not harming him, but relentless. A moment's loss of concentration would result in his death and the destruction of this house. To coat oneself in fire as a lasting monument to yourself, it was an idea full of personal pride.

"You look at me with surprise, young Remus," the man answered, "but you see that I know myself. I know who I am and what it is that I want with my life. Would that you could see so clearly in your own life."

Remus nodded, distractedly. Who was this man? Why did he ask so many questions? What, most importantly, would he say when Remus asked him for some of his fire?

"So, young Remus," the man began, "what do you want of me?"

"I..." he began, hesitantly, "I was asked to come to you, to deliver a small part of that flame which you have made to my employer."

"Who is your employer?" the master asked. It was the question Remus had expected, yet another in a line that he had no real answer for.

"You asked me who I was before," Remus said, "and I know I have failed to answer this so far. Being a werewolf, as you have discovered, I have not found it easy to find work. To make matters worse, I created an unauthorized spell to save my friends and was chastised for it by the Ministry. No one will hire me.

"I heard from an acquaintance of my childhood. He had work for me. I needed work. He didn't object so long as I did not ask questions. The work will pay well. It will be dangerous, but pay well. I agreed to this. So, you see, I cannot answer this last question."

"These are dangerous times to be unsure of who you work for," the master said, steadily, peering dead into Remus' eyes.

"Dangerous times do not diminish needs," Remus answered, returning the look with a fierce determination. "Sometimes life pushes us into a corner, and there is only one way to react."

"Yes, yes, I see," answered the elder. The flames burned brighter and higher on him as he spoke again. "Your father, as I have said, did a good turn by me some years ago. Perhaps it is time to repay this debt. You will have your fire, young Remus. May it bring you prosperity. But watch the hand that feeds you. It knows that you are chained to it. You may come to me if you see the grip tightening on it. I have a feeling you will return before long."

"I can see that you have a good heart," he continued, "but beware the alleys you must pass through. The best intentions may be led to the worst actions."

"Thank you, master," Remus said.

"Call me Fleinfold, young Remus," Fleinfold corrected him. "All of my friends do."

"Thank you, Fleinfold."

After a pause, Fleinfold broke the silence, "You are to deliver this fire by hand, I take it? Where is your torch?"

"It is here," Remus answered, pulling a thin, elaborately designed torch from his robes. He had returned to his room the evening before to find this wrapped and laid carefully on his bed. His landlord had never seen a deliveryman.

"Ah," Fleinfold exclaimed, "it is a fine torch, a gallant touch of elegance for such a dark alley business. My compliments to your employer. Now, I have but one more question for you, young Remus."

"What is it?" Remus asked with some consternation.

"How do you mean to secure it?" Fleinfold asked. "This flame is quite volatile. I have exerted a great amount of magic to perpetually keep it tame about me. How do you mean to protect yourself and everything you pass?"

"I'll show you," Remus answered, stepping back to have space. "_Angelis Aguanti_," he cried, waving his wand in a swishing wave-motion. The water spell appeared, coursing through the air with Remus' careful direction. He surrounded the flame that had led him here, but did not harm it. He guided it where he wanted, and then released it. His spell faded with another flick of the wand.

Fleinfold nodded. "Impressive, young Remus," he said. "I was not aware of such a spell. It had a life and spirit to it that you do not see in water spells."

"Thank you," Remus replied. "It was for this spell that I was chastised by the Ministry. I used it to extinguish _Fiend Fyre_ released in the Gryffindor Common Room."

Fleinfold gasped. "_Fiend Fyre_ in the castle? I have never heard of such a thing."

"They have kept it quiet," Remus answered calmly. "As you said, we live in dangerous times."

"Worse than I thought, apparently," Fleinfold said to the air. His face became closed and considerate. Remus waited.

"Bring me your torch, young Remus," Fleinfold said after a time. "I will release you on your way. Prepare your water spell. This fire will grow angry the further it moves from me. I fancy it has taken a liking to me over the years."

Remus stepped forward and raised the torch towards the master. Fleinfold fed a piece of the fire onto the torch's mouth and nodded with approval. "They have placed protective spells on the handle, very resourceful."

Remus lowered the torch to eye level and watched it. The fire danced energetically and happily on its new perch. Remus could see the master's face through the flame. There was a sadness of parting and loss around his eyes. This flame was more than a creation to him, it was a friend, a companion. Remus tried to hold it as carefully as possible.

Remus raised his wand in the other hand and uttered his incantation, "_Angelis Aguanti_." The water encircled the flame, allowing air to pass through, but always in some different place. It worked as chaotically as the fire within and held its own in the battle. Remus looked briefly at the fire master and bowed to him.

"Thank you for this fire," he said, "I hope we shall meet again."

"You are welcome, young Remus," Fleinfold answered him, "Take care with that fire and with your employer. Treat each with the best care you can muster, with the best defense as you may summon. If you should have trouble, do not hesitate to seek me out."

"I will," Remus promised, "Goodbye, Fleinfold."

"Goodbye, young Remus," Fleinfold said, "for now."

Remus turned and passed back through the hallway and out into the alley. He turned back as the door shut behind him. He could see the finger of flame winking at him in the entrance room, growing darker as his view faded. Then, he was alone with the torch of Gubrathian Fire.


	17. Chapter 17: Through a Dark Passage

The alleyway, when lit, made Remus wish he could return to the darkness. The building facades were of the most horrible design; sculptures of tortured faces and bodies appeared on the edges of the light up a story from the ground. To add to this disgusting sight, each statue had had little repair or cleaning in a long time. The grime and wear gave each a distinctive demonic character. Some of the tortured faces looked down on him, mouths open in what could be screams or laughter. Remus shuddered and lowered his eyes.

The note from Igor had given him an address some three miles distant for the delivery. It had not indicated how to approach, but he had passed there once, and knew it was a well-lit area. Walking with a torch of Gubrathian Fire openly through the streets of London was not a good idea. Remus had done his homework. He had studied the sewers and found a suitable route that should lead him - with but a few course corrections - to within a block of his destination.

Remus waved the torch over the ground as he walked, looking for the sewer-cap the map had indicated was nearby. As the torch waved, the _Angelis_ followed with it, still locked in a struggle with the fire. The cracks in the street had filled with a substance that was mostly mud but had the consistency of pudding. Whenever his foot chanced upon a large crack, the substance would cling to his heel and then spring back with a Sproik sound.

Remus crisscrossed the alley twice before deciding that the sewer-cap was mislabeled. He put his head out at the alley's mouth and looked about for peering eyes. He worked quickly, continuing his search of the ground for another cap. Twenty feet off the left side of the intersecting road he found one. With a flick of his wand the cap moved free, and he descended into the depths. With another flick, he was sealed in the sewer.

The light, more concentrated in this smaller space, gave a greater report of what was around him. The amount of light was just between the dim slip of a candle and the energetic power of electric illumination. It gave off a revealing glow that made Remus feel uneasy. He could see into the furthest cracks to his left or right, but the tunnel ahead and behind were still shrouded in mystery.

The sounds of the sewer were numerous, and, always, coming from sources just out of sight. They could have been several tunnels distant, but the echoes brought everything in close. The smell was horrendous, and bled over as a taste in the air that Remus could not spit out - try as he might. The moisture clung to him, and Remus felt as though it coated him in a filth he had not even touched.

For fifteen hundred galleons, he would endure. The first corridor was simple enough. He had but on direction to go, forward. The sewer-cap he had selected was the end of a line. The tunnel beyond, however, had no less than eight exits besides the one he had come from. He had walked directly into a hive of tunnels. No doubt the sewer workers would use this to reach several places in the local sewers at once. Which one led away, though?

Remus knew he must head north to reach his destination. As he had not found his sewer route, there was but one way to find his bearings. Torch still in hand, he laid his wand across his other hand and said, "_Point Me!_." It spun and indicated the north through one doorway. He took that route.

After an hour or so of walking, Remus peeked out of a sewer-cap to get his bearings. The first time, he found himself on a road he had never seen before. That worried him, but he continued on, confident that his direction was true. The second time he checked, some thirty minutes thereafter, he found himself a block from the Ministry of Magic. He ducked back into the sewer quickly, but was relieved. The Ministry was half a mile from his destination. He had gone the right way, after all.

Taking his stride again, Remus fairly flew through the sewer, realizing how near he was to leaving that filthy pit. Also, passing so close to the watchful eyes of the Ministry suddenly gave him a sense of fear. At no point before this had he thought about what would happen should the Ministry capture him. He could feel the oppressive sense of danger mount and quickened his stride further still.

It is a curious thing to find oneself suddenly and completely at odds with a great power. Remus had always felt indifferent, at worst irritated, about the Ministry. Now that he acted against it, even in so subtle and complicated a fashion, he could see it as clearly as one sees an enemy at field. Its great weight was both a weakness and strength. It was unwieldy, but a chance swing could crush a person without much effort.

Remus could picture the relish with which the Ministry would come down on him. They were looking for someone to pin anything on. Here he was, a mere few blocks away, flouting Ministry decrees, working for a dubious employer, and a werewolf. The perfect scapegoat often had that subtle twist of prejudice against it.

As he passed away from the Ministry building, he could feel a lessening of tension. The towering shadow of the government fell away, and he was free from it, though still in shadow. When he guessed that he was within a few blocks, Remus opened another sewer-cap, and rose from the depths.

He came up into a dark place. He could not see the sky nor much else. The torch failed to illuminate his surroundings. The walls were more than a few yards past the edge of the flame's light. Remus walked forward, quickly, and found a wall. He walked along this until he came to a bend. He took it left and found himself in a hallway. There were photos and artwork on the walls. There was no mistaking it; he had risen from the sewers in the middle of a house!

Remus paused and listened. There was no sound at all. The fire, though burning, was silent, and his spell merely hovered defensively. If any people lived here, they were as silent as the grave. Remus inched forward, hearing the distinctive click of his feet on the hard wooden floor. The hallway was menacing with its uncertainty. Any of these doorways might lead into a bedroom with a sleeping person. One also must lead out to the street. Remus asked his wand to point his direction again. North was at an odd angle with the hallway. No help there. He decided to try the door at the far end of the hall. It seemed most probable that that door would lead him to another place in the house.

With a trembling hand, he opened the door and found the street! He had made it outside once more. What is more, he was just down the street from his destination. As Remus shut the door, he wondered what sort of house had a sewer-cap inside. He looked around before pressing on, the house soon forgotten.

The street was empty. The lack of any other people was reassuring and scary. He preferred to run into no one, but a world without anyone - no cars at a distance, no teenagers wandering the streets, no anything - unnerved him. Perhaps luck was simply on his side this night. With a brisk step, Remus approached the house.

It was a plain old building, inconspicuous but well kept. The doorway, too, was simple and uninviting. Remus, upon seeing it first, had thought it the perfect meeting place for a transaction like this. The door opened as he took the steps up to the door. Remus nearly stumbled on a crumbled step, but caught himself on the stone banister. His eyes had locked so fully on the dim contents of the room now opening to him. No one was in view at this home, either, but there was no flame to guide him.

He crossed the portal and the door closed behind him. Remus found himself in a room with one other exit off to the left that appeared to lead off into the private side of the house. A single man stood in the shadows along the back wall. He appeared to be watching Remus intently. It took a moment for Remus to realize that this man had been standing, casually leaning against the wall in the pitch dark a moment ago.

Stepping forward, Remus brought the full of the room into relief. It was plain, barely furnished with a few chairs set around a broad table. Remus was alone with the strange man who clung to the shadows. Stepping forward, Remus brought his torch a little higher to expose the face of his contact.

The light crept up the shirt and neck of the man, and illuminated a face that Remus knew very well. Mr. Bartemus Crouch stood calmly considering Remus. Why was the Head of the Magical Enforcement Department here? Was it a trap?

Remus had just had time to turn before he felt something from his left collide with him forcibly. He felt a sharp pain where he had been struck, and fell sideways into one of the chairs. With an effort, he kept hold of the torch and refocused his spell to prevent the fire's escape. The fire had taken the opportunity of his momentary lapse in attention to grow to double its size and threaten the ceiling with impact.

"Hold," Crouch said, suddenly. "He has the fire. Do not attack him. It is as wild as they said."

Another voice, a strange one to Remus enthusiastically answered, "Yes, sir."

With a flick of his eyes, Remus took in a thin, dark young man. He had the handsome, proud face prevalent in the noblest families in the Magical World, but the tired shadows under his eyes that related the difficulty of his work. Remus did not know him, still.

"So," Crouch said, addressing Remus directly, "you are transporting an illegal substance with an illegal spell through the sewers at night to meet someone. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

Remus had looked back at the Department Head as he listened. He was struck by how calm and collected this man was, considering the danger this torch presented. Only Remus' will kept it from incinerating everything around them. If he had though Remus was a threat, he would never have shown up in person. 'Thus,' thought Remus, 'he expects something different. He expects me to cooperate and help him.'

"How did you come here?" Remus asked.

"We had a tip off that something might be happening here tonight, something of interest to us," Crouch answered.

"And you came alone?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He didn't come alone!" yelled the young man, "He's got me!"

"Quiet, Quince," Crouch snapped. "Well, Mr. Lupin, we could sit here and discuss semantics of Magical Law Enforcement procedure all night, but I do have other things to attend to. I know for a fact that you were to meet someone here. If you reveal what you know, I'm sure the Ministry will go lighter on you. We are always encouraging criminals to do their part in these dark times."

Remus considered his position. He was caught. He was outnumbered, at least two to one. Magically speaking, Remus knew he could get by the younger wizard, but Barty was well known for his prowess. Further, Barty was no fool. He had come with no clear indication of what he might find. There were certainly others just out of sight. Even if they had not put up Anti-disapparation spells - which Remus was certain they had - where was he to go?

On the other hand, only these two had any way of knowing what had happened. There was a way to be sure of that. Remus held his wand in his pocket, not having moved his hand since entering. He thought a spell, '_Hominum Revelio_,' and could feel the presence of everyone in or around the building. There were several people sleeping on the floors above. Near them, Remus could sense four wizards, one on each side of the building along the perimeter. As he had thought, none of these wizards could have heard him speak. The sound of a spell had brought them into position.

There was only one way out of this. He looked Barty straight in the eye and threw the Gubraithian Fire torch at him. Barty staggered backwards as the flaming torch - now wild without Remus' protective spell - flew towards him. In the instant before chaos and fire engulfed the room, Remus pulled out his wand and cried "_Obliviate!_ twice, in rapid succession. With another wave, he redirected the torch off to the right, missing a confused looking Barty Crouch by inches. The wall behind him caught fire, and the floor a moment later.

Remus summoned all of his concentration, and aimed for the front wall. "_Bombardar_!" he cried. The wall exploded outwards in rubble, and Remus could see the Auror hurtling across the empty street in the flurry of brick and drywall. Grabbing the hands of the vacant-expressioned Barty and Quince, Remus leaped through the great hole he had created. When they were safely outside of the building, he dropped them, turned on the spot, and Disapparated.

Remus reappeared outside of a new building. It was in sharp contrast with the house he had just left. Whereas the former was tight and cramped, this was airy and spacious. It had a modernist feel to it, and seemed to welcome guests in its own distinct way. Remus took no notice of this, but crashed through the front door, wand still in hand.

A few people stood at his entry, alarmed. Remus scanned their faces and asked, "Where's Dumbledore?"

"Remus?" a voice asked, concerned.

"I need to find -" he began.

"Remus, you're hurt!" she said again. Remus looked at her more closely. It was Lily. They hadn't spoken in person since his fight with James. She had dark circles under her eyes. She had not been sleeping.

"I'm fine," he replied, "but I must tell Dumbledore something immediately."

"He's not here," answered a member named Benjy Fenwick, who had been seated with Lily and a few other members of the Order of the Phoenix. This was the group Dumbledore had formed to face You-Know-Who. "He had to stop by the Ministry on something urgent."

"You're not fine!" Lily cried, regaining his attention. "Look at you! You're covered in brick. You have scratches all over your arms and face. Your clothing is singed. What happened?"

"I'm sorry," Remus said, "but I can't tell you. I need to speak with Dumbledore as soon as he returns."

"At least let us dress your wounds," Lily said, coaxing him to sit down while she and Benjy helped set his wounds. Remus did not want to sit still. He wanted to pace or do something. Waiting was unbearable. Everything had fallen apart and he couldn't be sure it could be set right again. This job had been a gamble and now he was in it deeper than ever. Only Dumbledore could help, if anyone could.

As they worked, Lily gave Remus many looks of concern, but said nothing. Benjy and Remus had never known each other well, so neither could think of anything to say to each other. The other members had gone back to their quiet conversations.

The house Remus had arrived at was - surprisingly to all - the personal home of Minerva McGonagall. The most uptight and strict professor at the school was also the one with the most modern and stylish home. She had offered up her home - large as it was - to the Order for meetings and as a check-in point. She had performed a _Fidelius_ Charm upon it, such that only members she had invited could find the headquarters.

Just as the two finished cleaning Remus' wounds, the front door opened again. Everyone looked up. Remus stood to speak with Dumbledore directly. It was not Dumbledore, however, who came through the door. James rushed in, saying, "The Ministry has put out a warrant against Remus. Has anyone -" He stopped, seeing Remus standing by the couch, with the other Order members looking over at him.

James and Remus considered each other. Neither had made any effort to see the other since their fight. The immediate anger they had felt had long faded, but some remnant of the hurt remained. The tension mounted as time went by. All other conversation had ceased, waiting for whatever would happen here. Lily had turned away, not wanting to watch them fight again.

James stepped forward, walking directly up to Remus. The two looked each other in the eyes, closely scrutinizing what they saw there. Remus was the first to look down; James was the first to speak. "I-I'm sorry, mate," he said, "I know you weren't after Lily. I have no excuse for my actions."

Remus looked up, his eyes had watered slightly. "I'm sorry I went off on you, too. I shouldn't take my anger out on my friends."

Lily turned and watched the pair embrace. She was crying silently, openly. Remus saw this and smiled while whacking James on the back. James turned, gave a concerned look towards Lily, and then smiled too when he saw that she was smiling behind her tears.

"Ah, made up, have you?" came a voice from the doorway. Dumbledore stood there, looking windblown and strained. "Please, come with me, Remus, James, and Lily..."

The four of them followed Dumbledore up into his (McGonagall's) study. The room had a feel to it which reminded Remus of Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. The walls were lined with books and odd magical gadgets. It had a larger window than the Headmaster's office, and there were no great paintings of previous Headmasters, but it still reminded Remus of it. The five sat down. The dark night sky behind Dumbledore threw shadows over his face even in this well-lit room. Remus had a hard time remembering that it was - indeed - very late.

"Now," Dumbledore said, looking serious at all of them, "what Remus was doing tonight is strictly to be kept secret. The Ministry does not have anything specific on him, except that he was seen around a location of some occurrence in lower London. The Ministry officials involved were disoriented or forgetful. As such, the Ministry is trying to question him regarding what happened."

"I-" Remus began but was silenced by a look from Dumbledore.

"For the sake of what you are trying to accomplish, Remus, keep quiet," he said. "You must not tell anyone in the Order - not even me - what happened tonight. If anyone is questioned, we will not have to lie. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Remus answered. "But how can I continue if the Ministry is hunting for me?"

"You will need to go into hiding," Dumbledore answered, "and you cannot continue to come here, for the time being. Your comings and goings in heavily populated Wizarding areas will be tracked soon, if not already."

"I already have a secret apartment," Remus answered.

"They will have sent Ministry officials there by now," Dumbledore said. Seeing the look of shock on Remus' face, he added, "The Ministry has a habit of keeping tabs on people they do not trust."

"People or monsters?" Remus asked through gritted teeth.

Dumbledore ignored this, saying, "James' parents have volunteered their house for anything we should need. They are far enough off the beaten track and have a great deal of protective magic over their home to suit our needs. If James will consent to it, I would suggest you stay there."

James answered immediately, "Of course. I would do anything to help you, Remus and my parents loved having you as our guest before."

"That is right," Dumbledore said to himself. "You did stay there one summer. The facility for his transformations is still available, I hope?"

"Yes," James answered, "my father calls it his tool shed now, but never puts anything in it."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "I believe that is everything for now...oh, and congratulations James and Lily."

The pair blushed heavily. Remus looked over at them, questioningly. James said, addressing Dumbledore, "Thanks." Lily just grew another shade of pink.

"When is it to be?" Dumbledore asked.

"In a few weeks," James answered, "Soon. There are too many uncertainties these days."

"Of course, of course," Dumbledore said. "My best to both of you. I'm afraid, for now, I must dash on. This night has not been an easy one for many, I'm afraid."

With that he left. Remus was completely nonplussed. James and Lily were looking at each other in that loving way they always had these days. Then, Remus saw it, a diamond ring on Lily's finger.

"Oh, but you are getting married!" he exclaimed, happily.

"Of course," James answered as cheerfully. "Sorry, old mate, but you have been a bit out of things."

Lily gave Remus a joyful smile which he returned. "I am so happy for both of you," he said. "At least there are still some flickers of happiness in these times."

A pause followed as everyone considered what had been and the times ahead. At least, Remus did so. What the other two thought was beyond him. For Remus, it clicked, suddenly. That was why James had been on edge, why he had attacked Remus in jealousy. He had been preparing to propose.

James broke the silence, "But you will come, of course?" he asked, hesitantly. "It wouldn't be a party without you."

"Yes," Remus responded, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."


	18. Chapter 18: A Celebration Gift

"James!" Sirius cried, "You're going to miss your own wedding!"

"-m coming!" James replied, cramming his head through his silk robes as quickly as he could.

Remus laughed, adding, "At least he doesn't have to do his hair."

James' messy hair had long been a joke among them. Even Lily had eventually given up her attempts to straighten it out. She just sighed sometimes, looking up at it as one looks at a failed experiment.

"Ha ha," James retorted loudly, "Can you help me out here?"

With the combined efforts of Remus, Sirius, and James, the groom was soon ready to go. His fairy-woven robes were smoother and sleeker than silk in a solid, royal blue hue. Remus couldn't imagine the price, but that was not his concern. He was the guest here, at James' family house, as he had been since leaving the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

He and Sirius were dressed in their best robes (not nearly as fine as James in either case), although James' mum had done a great job in patching them up. Such a pair of kind people, Remus had never met before in his life. James did not live at home anymore, but he would stop in at times, with and without Lily. Whenever he arrived, both parents - retired - would make a great to do. Otherwise, they spent their time doting on Remus. It was a bit overwhelming. Remus was accustomed to minor attention from friends and none from most other people.

Remus and Sirius ushered the nervous James down the back staircase. The wedding was to take place out on the lawn in a few minutes. James needed to be in place before it began. Peter was downstairs helping to usher and arrange things. These three, of course, were James' groomsmen. Sirius was his best man. Remus did not resent this; it was perfectly natural, really. Those two had been inseparable from their first meeting.

Sirius looked almost as nervous as James. Remus led them both out the back doors into the completely changed grounds of the Potter Manor. Where a simple, grass-laden backyard had stood were a series of tents and a magnificent, magically erected altar for the ceremony. The back of the altar had two great swan wing-shaped sculptures adjacent each other. From all appearances, the altar sat on the back of a great bird that was preparing to fly off with the bridal party.

Before this great stage were several dozen rows of chairs on each side of the aisle. The Potter side of the family had invited every Magical family of consequence. The Evans side had come with a few friends and family members. It was an odd pairing from that respect. The friends on James' side had been tactfully divided to keep the balance on each side of the aisle. Of course, Lily's friends from school had come, filling out the section well. She was as popular as James at Hogwarts, if not more so. The Muggles from Lily's side were not interacting with the wizards and witches about them. The wizards and witches were responding similarly.

Remus wondered what they told these other Muggle family members. He determined he would ask one if he had the chance, later. There was absolutely no attempt to hide the magic at this event. Even the thickest headed Muggle would see the assistants bustling around beforehand waving wands to set the flowers in the right light and adjusting every other thing. Fountains of water leapt from bowl to bowl hovering high in the air.

It was a beautiful day; nothing whatsoever was out of place. 'This,' thought Remus, 'is what they always call a fairy tale wedding.' The day before, the party had moved up the wedding to take advantage of what promised to be an exquisite morning. Whatever wrong there was in the world, it had no place here.

The ceremony passed in a blur for Remus, All he could later remember was the way James and Lily looked at each other throughout. James had that huge funny grin the whole time; Lily had a broad smile and a tear balanced at her eyelid. Remus felt certain he wasn't the only bystander to share in their joy.

The reception followed. Everyone stood as the newlyweds walked back down the aisle and entered the tent. Then, the wedding party and immediate family made their way past the many watching eyes and momentarily out of view. The mob followed and the tent was soon full and bustling with activity.

Remus lost himself in the swirl of dress robes, shaking hands, and festive music. The tent had been filled with a natural light that did not come from the sun. It flowed evenly between the couples, sending an array of pleasant, dancing shadows across the edges of the room. The air, too, was enchanted and filled with an aroma that transitioned smoothly between lilacs and roses before you reached the middle of the tent.

The music of the day was provided by The Twin Wands, a band out of Yorkshire that had come blazing onto the scene - quite literally, as they had used magical fire in their intro - a few months ago. James' family had spared no expense for their son's happy day. Remus could make out Lily's flash of red hair every moment or so. James and his other friends were invisible amid the brilliance of all the dresses and decor.

Moving through the crowd, Remus was overwhelmed by the visual kaleidoscope. His last few weeks had been in the company of no more than a few people at a time. Even before that, he had never traveled heavily in large groups. He pressed on, his mood improving all the while. It was so beautiful to see all of these people gathered about, happy and carefree.

Lily was only a few meters in front of him when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, Remus gave a start. It was Barty Crouch, and he, at least, was not having a good time.

"Did you really think you could attend a wedding in public without the Ministry discovering your whereabouts?" he asked.

"Mr. Crouch!" Remus exclaimed, "What a pleasure to see you! You must meet Ms. Habersham." Remus pulled out a young witch from the passing dancers, adding, "She has always been interested in Magical Law Enforcement."

The young witch's eyes boggled as she saw that she was in front of the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. His eyes were in semi-shock at the same moment. Then, she began talking quickly and excitedly to him. Remus didn't stay to hear the whole of it, but slipped away, quickly. The last he saw of the two before they disappeared behind several tall, foreign wizards was Barty's face glowering over the crowd at him.

He had to be quick now. Jan Habersham was the most talkative person in their year at Hogwarts. She really had told Remus that she was interested in that department, among several dozen other things. Remus guessed he had a couple minutes before Barty could find enough of a gap to say a single word. He was, after all, trying to approach Remus somewhat surreptitiously.

Remus rushed over to Lily and James. There was a fortunate parting of the crowds at the moment he arrived. He gave them a big smile, but something in his face alarmed Lily. Pointing over his shoulder, he mouthed, "Crouch." She nodded, calming.

"Congratulations," he said loud enough to get James' attention. "I'm sure you will both be very happy."

"Thanks, mate," James said, already sounding as though he had been talked into a few shots, already.

Lily simply smiled back at him. The group had all gathered about. Peter, Sirius, James, and Remus. It was a strange thing, these days. Usually one or more were always off busy. Remus regretted that he would soon have to break it up again.

He didn't have long. Remus had hardly arrived when he heard his name shouted from behind, recognizing the enraged voice of Barty Crouch. "Remus Lupin!" Giving his friends an agonized look, Lupin picked up a spoon from the table, and pulling out his wand.

"I'm sorry to leave so quickly," he said regrettably, "but one of the guests seems insistent on speaking to me, and I really have better things to do today. I hope you will forgive me. It was a lovely ceremony."

His friends beamed at him in amusement. He was taking this turn very calmly. Looking down at the spoon, he concentrated and pronounced, "_Portus!_" The spoon glowed a warm blue and with a wave, Remus disappeared.

He arrived a block out from the wedding. The longer the trip by Portkey, the easier it was to intercept. From here, though, he was far enough away to avoid running into any Ministry officials. Pocketing his wand, Remus hurried quickly into the alley adjacent. He would need to change to look less conspicuous. Fortunately, he had packed for the occasion.

The alley was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they had, he found himself surrounded by a dozen forms in black cloaks. He whipped out his wand, but it was flicked away, silently. Helpless, he brandished his other hand before him in a tight fist, defensively. In it, he still clutched the spoon.

The foremost cloaked figure lowered his hood as he stepped forward. Remus gasped. It was Igor! Stunned, Remus did nothing as his friend walked up, plucked the spoon from his hand and examined it. Igor smiled down at Remus, patting him on the arm.

"Thank you, my friend," he said. "You have done very well. I am continually amazed at your resourcefulness."

"Igor," Remus stuttered, "I...you..."

"We can take it from here, old friend," Igor said, placidly. "Consider your usual pay doubled for this."

Remus couldn't find words to respond. His mind was a whirl of panic, fear, and shock. He had just handed a portkey from the wedding to the Death Eaters. His connection with Igor was meant to give him information, useful tips about big attacks planned by the Death Eaters, maybe get some insight into the general plans. Instead, he was handing half of the Order over to a Death Eater surprise attack. Worst of all, he couldn't do anything about it, no matter how much he might wish to.

The Death Eaters had him well out-matched and he stood wandless before them. His only advantage was that they did not know he was in the Order. This was little consolation as they were about to attack his friends. Remus could not believe that this was Igor. His friend, a menacing Death Eater, prepared to kill and hurt countless wedding guests. It was just inconceivable. In the depths of Remus' mind, he felt a growing rage and hatred he had never felt for any man, not even the one who had bitten him. At least that person had had no control. Remus could understand that. He experienced it once a month.

This man - Remus found it hard to think of the others, those still masked, as men - chose to do these terrible things. He had willingly joined this group and continued with them after all they did. He was neither tricked into it nor appalled secretly by it. Had he any doubts, he would work against them, not recruit more into the group. His inclusion of Remus, an old friend, was certainly a sign of a conscience lost. Was there anything left of that boy Remus remembered?

Clearly not. Igor smiled, that rough, bearded smile, and waved over the other Death Eaters. "It's time!" They all grabbed the spoon and disappeared in a shimmering flash. Remus sank to his knees. A wave of despair came over him. The worst bit just came to him. The security procedures implemented would prevent him from getting back in the wedding to help. It was too late to warn them, but to be unable to help?

The screams began, followed by the sound of spells colliding with objects. Remus shuddered. Each sound struck his heartstrings. It was all his fault. He had let them. He hadn't even put up a struggle. There must have been something he could have done, some way to make it stop. The sounds grew louder. Soon, it was overwhelming, and Remus cried out, alone in the alley.

Where could he turn? Who could help him at a time like this? Every friend he had was trapped in that reception gone awry. Not all of the Order was there. Perhaps he could warn them. He did not have the power to break through the protections, but perhaps the others...maybe Dumbledore could. Yes, Dumbledore!

Remus scrambled about. His wand had to be somewhere here. There! He grabbed it and focused. "_Expecto Patronum!_," he cried. Off went the Patronus, swiftly with his message. Within a moment, there was a pop. Dumbledore appeared beside him. He looked down at Remus with an unreadable expression.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"The Potter grounds," Remus said. "A block that way." He nodded in that direction, his knees and hands still on the ground, his despair palpable, Remus felt, in every motion he made. "They have protections...I...can't break through them."

"I will," Dumbledore said, simply. "You stay out. You need to remain a secret from the Death Eaters. Find somewhere to hide, somewhere safe from the Ministry. Can you manage that?"

"I...Dumbledore...I..." he cried, looking up with bleary eyes.

"Can you?"

"Yes," Remus answered, looking down again. "Yes, I can."

"Then, get up and go," Dumbledore said, his voice stern and powerful. "I must go. I will contact you."

Dumbledore disapparated. Remus was alone again. At least they had Dumbledore. With Dumbledore, there was hope that Remus' mistakes could be undone. Perhaps he would be in time. For now, though, he had to follow Dumbledore's orders, and trust him.

Remus had to move, but he wasn't sure where. Sure, there were many places he could go to hide out, but where would he be safe and secure? A sudden brilliant light illuminated the alleyway. Turning, Remus could see the hazy outline of a great fire in the distance. It wove an intricate pattern in the air, mixing with and fading into the darkness of the black smoke that now rose. The blue, pure sky was marred, painfully blighted by a reminder of the sudden change that had come.

As horrified as he was by the sight of it, the fire also could answer his dilemma. 'Yes,' he thought, 'that is it.' With a thought, he whirled in place and was briefly compressed. When he opened his eyes again, he was in another alleyway. The place seemed little lighter than the last time he had come here, although it was broad daylight. The walls of the alley seemed to absorb the light, as though retaining it like a plant.

In a move, he swept over to a familiar doorway. It gave at his touch, and he entered. There was no finger of flame waiting for him, no welcoming warmth to draw him into the inner recess. The air was still and dry. He shut the door behind him. The room was dark and Remus paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust and listening for any sound at all. There was none.

Remus lit his wand. The room, as before, was barren. There was no sign of anyone at all. He called out, "Fleinfold?" Silence.

Remus flew down the hallway, the light from his wand jolting as he went, illuminating bits of the floor, dust-covered paintings, and the grimy walls. In the natural light of the spell, it appeared much less warm and cared-for than with that firelight. The door at the end was where Fleinfold had been.

He knocked. No response. "Fleinfold?" he asked again. No response. A little worried, Remus opened the door. Silence and darkness met him. Panning the light over the room, Remus could immediately tell that the man had gone. The furniture was unmoved, and, somehow, had no signs of the eternal fire that had been there before.

Remus' heart seemed to sink within his chest. The anticipation of seeing Fleinfold, still a bit of a mystery but someone that he knew, had built up to something greater in his mind than he had expected. The numbness he had begun to feel over the sudden terrible turn of the evening, fell away and all he could see was a widening hole in the world before him, as barren and cold as the deepening abyss.

Fleinfold had come to represent something strangely solid and unchanging in Remus' mind. A strange thing for a man of fire. Remus pictured him, just as he had met him, speaking with his father years before. That, in itself, tied the man to a piece of Remus' past. Like that past, this last reminder had gone from him, suddenly and inexorably.

Remus felt a sudden abandonment. Everything was stripped away from him. His past was dead. His friends...who knew? What was there left for him? Still, where was Fleinfold? It was quite a mystery. According to the man, he wasn't allowed out of the house. To leave was to expose the world to an eternal, wild fire, wasn't it? Granted, Remus had done the same, but it had been controlled, evidently. That had been just a single torch, and Fleinfold was covered in it.

Remus' hand had lowered in the terrible moment of sadness. Something. There. His hand was pointing directly at the only thing that moved within the room. It was paper and it waved around, as though one end was stuck and the other had a heavy breeze playing upon it. Curiosity peaked, he walked over to the spot and tugged at the free end. It was a letter, and it tore off in his hand, leaving the note largely intact.

_Remus,_

Dear boy, if you are reading this, and I imagine you shall, I regret that what I have foreseen has come to pass. I regret two things, rather, both I have seen and both I cannot bear to think about. Yet, for your benefit, I persevere.

The first thing, and, doubtless, more important to you, is how you have come to be here. The world is changing, Remus, and not for the better. You have seen it. I saw it in your eyes the moment you walked into my presence. Your arrival sparked more in my imagination than you can know. You are here, I say, because part of what I spoke about is happening.

I heard, of course, the after-effects of the night you met me. I am sorry that my fire could have brought grief to you. I only wish that you had not come to me on such an errand. As simple as your need, the men you journey with, even under pretenses of fooling them, can affect your life. Fortunately, you did not come to any immediate harm. I saw that in you, from the first. I could feel the pride and resourcefulness from your escapade - after told in full to me by those I trust - in the Common Room.

From then on, though, it was only a matter of time before you came back to my home. You were on the run, even if you could not see it. Hiding with friends is all the same as straight flight. If you cannot meet a man face-to-face, then you are in active flight from him. Whatever has spurred your last steps to my door, know this. You are safe here. The protections I have made are strong. Yet, I urge you not to hide forever. You may stay as long as you wish, but remember the taste of fresh air, the scent of freedom. Strive for that.

My second regret is that I cannot meet you here. I have accepted my freedom. Freedom, as you will find, is costly and taken up and abandoned for reasons that we cannot always understand in others. I do not believe you will easily see or comprehend my choice in this matter, but I have given up something dear to me, dearer than myself, to take my freedom.

You saw me at a height of blissful ignorance. I have been many things in my life, and many I would atone for, but this was the least forgivable. It is so easy, if one finds safety and isolation, safe from the world, its news, and its people, to cling to it. Clinging to ignorance is like a prisoner clinging to his bars. The cell door may be wide behind him, but he maintains that he will ever watch the sky through that narrow slit.

I have gone; this you see clearly. I have much to achieve, for the good of men. I fight. I may die, yet I fight. It is in self-sacrifice that I have earned my place among men again. I cannot explain it well enough for a young man to understand. Perhaps one day you will feel as I did, and, on that day, when you cast aside your burdens and joys, you will know true freedom and its price.

Fire is life. It has so long been an inseparable friend to me, that I could not have imagined breath or hope without its caring embrace. To leave this place, I had but one stipulation set upon me. I had to remove the living mantle of fire and live as an ordinary wizard. This I have done. The agony of self-deprivation, especially when the years seemed to have decided for me my fate, you had best not know. I stand, a man, once more. In life, there are things far greater than ourselves. Sometimes they beckon. If we accept the call, our duty demands the sacrifice of what we perceive to be our right, to do whatever it takes to make this world a better place.

I hope these words give you courage for the fight before you. You may not be able, as I have, to cast aside the monstrous beast that taints your humanity. It takes more strength than any man can ask of another to do so. I do not mean that you may wake up one day not a werewolf, but I think you may understand, in time. Until that day, have the courage to follow your heart and find your own path.

Regards,

Fleinfold Hart

P.S. I found a lost possession of yours at the foot of my couch soon after you left. I wished to return it to you in person, but here we are. It is a dazzling thing, and I do wonder where you came about it. As a present, I have made one touch of improvement that I hope you will like. Keep it in good health and good heart. Dresser, second drawer.

The page ended. Remus was confused and felt tired from the letter. Fleinfold had said more than Remus could put his finger on. Hopefully, in time, he would. His first thought, however, was a curious and hopeful one. He thought he knew what had been found, and wondered what the improvement was.

He crossed the room to the over-sized, under-used dresser. The top was a sea of dust, but for the middle, where a hand had shaken off a layer or two in seeking the handle. Remus followed suit and opened the second drawer from the left. A dazzling light spilled out of it, like a dancing orb of gold and scarlet. If anything could represent the House of Gryffindor better, Remus couldn't think of it.

As his eyes adjusted, Remus realized it was, indeed, Fleinfold had found the necklace he had made from the meteor shard, the beautiful gem gleaming upon the chain he had found. The improvement was terrifying, yet beautiful. It shook Remus and brought a tear to his eye, such was the beauty and the perfection of it. Fleinfold had entrapped the finger of fire, Remus' friendly greeter at his first visit, into the gem. It sparkled of its own light now and made the gem warm yet gentle to the touch.

Fleinfold had purchased freedom at the sacrifice of that which he loved best. Perhaps, in preserving this last finger, which winked at Remus knowingly, he had preserved enough of himself to go on. It was forever parted from him, but alive. He had extinguished his special fire, but that piece he had to release, to set free. Remus stood there, holding this last epitaph, this magnum opus, and wondering how he had been singled out to possess it.

As his thoughts edged back to his endangered friends and the pain he had brought, he could feel the gem warm and pulse, soothing him save for the tears he shed in silence. He stood there, without words or motion, hoping that he could find his path forwards. Hoping he had one. When night fell fully, heavily upon his eyelids, he found a spare bedroom and drowned in the ancient covers, grateful for a sleep that came suddenly, fiercely. He slept, a long day done.


	19. Chapter 19: Shards of Glass

Remus had fashioned a life in the home of his missing benefactor, Fleinfold Hart. Food, at least, was plentiful. Fleinfold had evidently prepared for a very long stay. The accommodations were a little small, only a few rooms, but with only himself for company, it worked. As Fleinfold had promised, no one bothered or visited him. Remus had setup his own alarms to alert him if someone was approaching, but he did not need them. Whatever the owner had done, only Remus seemed able to see the place.

Remus realized early on that Fleinfold had assumed Remus would live there. The study was barren. It had a door that bolted and unbolted only for Remus' voice. The walls were coated in a hard metal substance and softened with a layer of down-filled material. It was a perfect cell for his transformations. As a werewolf, Remus would lose his human voice and could not accidentally open the chamber. No one was around to accidentally stumble in upon him. It was perfect.

As much as he wished to remain a secret, Remus did venture out, at times. He needed other life necessities, for one. Also, he had a nagging feeling of abandonment in leaving everyone to their own devices out there. He did not hear news from the Order. Perhaps even Dumbledore couldn't track him down. It was a little unnerving after the wedding. Remus went out to sneak newspapers – Muggle ones, to be sure, but anything that might bring him news. There were dark stories of murders and the like, all similar to what he had seen before with the Death Eater's actions. However, he heard nothing about the people he cared about most.

'In a way,' he would think, 'that is good.' To see the face of James, Sirius, Peter, or Lily in the obituaries would be terrible. Usually, though, wizards handled their own obits in the Prophet. He could hardly expect them to show up in the Muggle paper. At this point he would shake himself up and try to think of something different. It was difficult. Sometimes he left just to get out. A solitary life was saddening.

On one long walk through the city, Remus was passing through an obscure and unsafe neighborhood, when a man began walking to his left a few paces. Without turning towards him, Igor said, "You're a tough one to track down, Remus."

"Igor," Remus said with a slight nod. "I expected to hear from you soon. I'm staying at a safe house. After the wedding, I have to avoid people."

"Perfectly understandable," Igor said. "But walking the streets is a bit dangerous, wouldn't you say?"

"How else would you have found me?" Remus asked, quietly. "I can't send out updated address forms."

"From now on," Igor said, "that won't be a problem."

"Oh?" Remus asked.

"There is a safety deposit box at the Barclays Bank on Emma Street, number 726," Igor said. "Here's a key." Igor tossed Remus the key. "Instructions will appear there, First week of the month on a Wednesday, second week, Friday, third week Monday, and fourth week, Thursday."

"I understand," Remus said.

"The Ministry is making it more difficult for our employer, but he is changing to meet the challenge," Igor said glibly. "Business prospers."

Without waiting for a response, Igor slipped out down an alley and was gone. Remus continued on his way as though nothing had interrupted his walk. He should let Dumbledore know that the Death Eaters were back in touch with him. He should let Dumbledore know the new arrangement. Yet, he had doubts. He couldn't just march back in to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix like nothing had happened. Harder yet, how could he contact the Order without the Death Eaters intercepting him or his message and learning the truth?

As impersonal as it was, Remus decided that sending a Patronus could be the only secure way. Members were only supposed to use it in case of emergency, but with no alternative that was undetectable... However, Dumbledore had said he would contact Remus. He hadn't yet. Perhaps, like the Death Eaters, he had not been able to determine where Remus was hiding. Unlike the Death Eaters, the Order didn't have a growing hidden army of spies to help him find Remus. It was hard to think. Remus' mind was clouded with doubts.

If he did contact the Order, how would they treat him? He didn't know how it had turned out, the wedding battle. There could be some angry members. Looking at it from their perspective, even if they didn't see the spoon portkey, Remus pops away and seconds later Death Eaters pop in. He doesn't return to help them. At best, he is a terrible friend, at best. At worst, he conspired with the Death Eaters to turn on his friends.

Lily and the Marauders couldn't think that, could they? They knew Remus, knew his stance on doing the right thing. They knew he was a good person, didn't they? Why was it so hard to convince yourself that you were not a monster in others' eyes? Maybe he was. He hadn't talked to anyone. He hadn't tried – even at his own hazard of discovery – to find out if they were all right. Wasn't that what a friend would do? Should do? He should have done everything to find out, to know that he hadn't really hurt anyone. Remus was so afraid for himself and his undercover position that he couldn't reach out.

It made him a little bitter inside. He couldn't do anything or he would ruin Dumbledore's plans, plans that would help the cause, that could save lives. But if he didn't, he could lose his friends, those who had been everything to him when he needed people so desperately. What was the point of heroics if you were casting a shadow on your own soul? Remus wondered if he was being selfish by wanting to reassure his friends and retain their relationship or by not seeing them and protecting himself. He seemed damned either way.

By this time, he had wandered further than ever into the depths of the city. He did not recognize the buildings around him. The brick was of an older style and the buildings looked abandoned and decrepit. Remus decided it must be time to head back to the house. He had risked exposure for far too long. In a city as large as London, with so many people, it would take random chance for the Ministry to find him. He couldn't afford to increase those odds.

An explosion rocked the block. Remus could feel the heat lick the side of his face in a way that was both playful and forceful. He stumbled. No one else was within sight. Looking up, Remus could see a building across the street heavily ablaze. 'Some sort of gas rupture in ancient pipes must have sparked it,' Remus thought. The flames licked skyward. Remus hesitated. He could help lessen the blaze. He could possibly even put it out before the Muggle Firemen arrived. But that would be an exposure he could not afford. It was too dangerous, especially for a block that was deserted. They might lose a couple buildings, a couple worn out, ready-for-demolition buildings, but no one would be hurt.

Turning, Remus continued on the way he had been walking. A window blew out, throwing glass across the street. A couple pieces nicked Remus' left hand and cheek. He flinched, but continued on. The fire seemed to beckon him, teasing him with its glow. Remus felt the necklace, the sun stone filled with fire, warm with excitement around this great source of fire. Remus ignored it. He could not remain here. A small stream of blood crawled down his cheek, pooling at his jawline.

The fire's heat rolled upon his left side in periodic waves, warming and enticing while still threatening and willful. Remus was almost beyond the heat when he heard the cry. "Help!" a woman's voice shouted, strong and forceful over the roaring crackle of flames and the sound of decaying wall. Remus turned full about. "HELP!" she shrieked, voice rising to a piercing tone. 'Where is she?' Remus asked himself. 'How did she survive the explosion? Why was she in there?'

"Help!" the voice cried more weakly. With no more time, Remus ran back to the site. Glass and rubble were spread in a broad pattern outward from the street-facing wall. "Where are you?" he shouted as he ran.

"Someone help!" the voice sounded from several directions.

Remus looked around. Still, no one was nearby. He had to do something. Whipping out his wand, he cast a water spell before him, clearing the edge of a window. With a leap, he was inside the inferno. The walls crawled with fire. The heat was more intense than Remus had remembered fire could be. His wand still created water, and it steamed up the air as he walked. Between smoke and steam, Remus could barely see the fire before him. He thought silently, "_Hominum Revelio_ and could sense a person in the room to his left. There was just one other person in this burning building.

Remus increased the intensity of the water, obliterating the fire before him. He could not get a sense of what this room had been. It was large and without furnishings. At the far end of the room, the side with the strongest fire, there was something like a doorway. He couldn't see it so much as feel the way the smoke flowed that direction. An adjacent room must have a higher ceiling.

He turned the water stream that direction and steam engulfed that section. He charged forward. The air was beginning to burn in his throat. Remus ceased the water flow, and turned his wand to himself. "_Clartus_," he choked out. Immediately, the air in his lungs seemed to clear. Remus appreciated the power of magic. He continued the water flow, and charged forward into the darkness and heat.

Washing out the edges of the doorway, Remus entered the next room. He started. The room was ringed in flames and a figure was huddled in the middle, surrounded by a threatening inferno. Remus changed tactics. There was too much fire for a single stream. "_Angelus Aguanti_!" he cried. The living water passed like a pair of serpents around the figure, protecting and forcing away the ring of fire. Remus took the opportunity to leap through to the center ring where the poor woman crouched.

"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning over the form.

The form rose, revealing a dark robed man with a hood. "Yes, quite well," he said, voice no longer high-pitched, but low and unpleasant.

Remus stepped back, suddenly wary of this whole situation. The hood blocked all but the chin and mouth of this man. The mouth was smiling in a very nasty way.

"I knew he was a fool," the voice said. "I had to see for myself, though. Who would think that Remus Lupin could turn his back so readily on his friends? That fool."

Remus stared at the man, trying to guess who he was and what he was saying. He voiced the prominent question, "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" the man asked. "No, the better question is who do you think you are?"

Remus was reminded, briefly, of his conversation with Fleinfold, but only briefly. This was much more serious. Remus smelled a Death Eater. He could not tell who it was, though. The cloak (or probably mask) was changing the voice, making it breathier than it should be. This voice was happily unpleasant and it bothered Remus to hear it. "I don't know what you mean," Remus said.

"He seemed to think you were strong enough, vicious enough to join us," the man laughed, "and here, at the first call for help, you run into a fire like a hero! Ha! He is a fool."

Remus grew red in the face. This was some Death Eater's trap! He had leapt bravely into it with abandon. Now, he was uncovered. After all that he had done, all the foolish things he had let the Death Eaters get away with so far to learn or prevent some greater threat, he had failed. For what had he lost it all, the possibility of saving a single person? He had probably cost lives as it was; Remus couldn't deny that probability. If he had interceded at any point, he could have saved others, but for the longer goal, he had held on and stayed low. Now, it would all be for nothing.

Anger exploded within him. His Angelis dissolved and the fire began to encroach again. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice dangerous now.

"Oh?" the man said, lifting his hood and removing his mask, "You don't recognize your old friend from school, the play thing of you and your friend's amusement? It is I!"

Severus stood before Remus, still pale with that familiar greasy hair, but with an added look of triumph that was terrible to behold. Remus' anger grew more. This was all for some childhood grudge, then, was it? All his plans cast asunder because Severus couldn't stand Remus and his friends. The flames ringing them in became wilder, as though regulated by the emotional strength of the two.

"You would burn a building to the ground and endanger your own life, just to earn a point against a friend of James?" Remus demanded angrily.

"What danger do you see?" Severus asked, eyes glinting in rapture over his victory. "The fire is perfectly under my control and you are alone."

"So are you," Remus declared, voice quiet but full of malice.

"Yes," Severus answered, smiling, "but I have little to fear from the likes of you, unless we have a full moon in the middle of the day, I suppose."

Remus' face didn't register any sting from this attack. It was expected. He retaliated coldly, "No matter what you can prove, it won't bring Lily back to you."

Severus' eyes narrowed, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Remus struck. As they talked, Remus took control of a portion of the ring of fire, enough to cause trouble without making it noticeable. When he caught Severus off guard, he whipped his wand and the fire arched in from three different directions, spiraling at the target with lethal force. Severus had enough agility to block with his wand before Remus' second attack came at him, this a jinx aimed at his chest.

Severus, in command of himself after the initial shock, flicked this spell away with ease. "Really, Remus," Severus laughed, "You are a good wizard, but you were never much of a dueler. You always left that to James and Sirius."

Then, he, following Remus' suit, sent a wall of fire at his opponent. Remus, countered with a wall of water. The two met in mid-air steaming the room more than before. Now, the duel was a blind one. Remus sent a volley of spells at the areas he assumed Severus to be, moving left and right as he went to confuse his opponent. None seemed to hit the mark, as a counter-volley came at him. Remus conjured a giant shield to block the more potent spells. He liked to call it the gong spell because the shield resonated with every strike.

Remus held his wand out and concentrated his force at its tip. A tight ball of fire emerged and spun at ridiculous speed. He could feel the pulsing at his throat grow dangerously fast and realized the fire necklace was increasing the power of his spell. It felt great, a power beyond his own. The ball grew to a meter in diameter before he sent it flying through the darkness.

There was an impact, one much closer than he had anticipated. The ball just froze in mid-air a couple meters in front of him. The heat grew rapidly. Remus' steam from a moment ago dissipated and he could see everything. Severus, seemingly of a similar mind, had sent a similar ball of fire at Remus at the same moment. The shock in his own eyes was reflected in Severus' eyes. Two great balls of fire in the middle of a weakened building wasn't particularly comforting to either of them.

The balls broke down. The intensity of their heat and strength went in every direction. Remus lost consciousness as the heat forced him into a wall that he could feel was already moving.

Remus awoke confused and in pain. He tried to breathe, but no air would come. It burned even to try. In fact, everything burned, as though he was still in the fire, the flames surrounding him. He could see those final moments, as though they were etched in his eyes, the blossoming flames, the stagger of the two balls, and the collapsing protection. Had Severus thrown up a protective spell? Remus couldn't remember. Everything had gone red and black.

He couldn't open his eyes. His lids felt weighted down. Something held him down. Remus struggled but could not move, and felt like he was drowning. Panic set in, and he coughed. Something drew liquid out of his mouth like a straw in reverse. A voice was there at his side.

"Hold there," a man said, with a voice Remus could not quite focus on. "You mustn't move. It's a miracle you're alive at all. Struggling can only make things worse. Stay still and I will care for you."

Remus stopped moving. He suddenly felt his head spin, as though he were falling down and couldn't re-balance himself. Thankfully, he blacked out again. This time, he felt the time of his blackness as a form of limbo. It was like a dream, but one in which he was disembodied and outside what he saw. He saw fire, thin fingers of it hovering before him. They danced with his necklace, tauntingly clever in their steps. A figure in black, hooded, continued to laugh at him, saying nothing, but letting off a high-pitched cackle.

In the flames, the fire before him, a frightful beast appeared. It reared up out of the ashes and flexed its great muscles, snarling and roaring. As it cried out, bountiful flames burst from its mouth, but it was unharmed. The eyes burned a dark red as they looked across at Remus, hungrily. Remus wanted to turn away, but could not. It approached, the fearsome beast. It ran headlong, in full attack. It struck, and the pane of mirrored glass before him broke, falling in shards all about him.

Remus coughed. He could breathe! His pain was weak, at worst. Where was the pain? Where had the burns gone? Remus felt almost completely well. He opened his eyes. Light, clear beautiful light fell in about him. It was too strong, at first, but his eyes adjusted to it, and he could sense a softness in that light, like a feeling of home.

Sitting up, Remus found that he was unbound, nestled in a warm assortment of covers and blankets. The room was mostly bare, of a simple design, with a thin, high window at the end letting in the light. One doorway, to his left, was closed with an over-size wooden door. No one was with him. As Remus began to focus, he heard the distant sound of bells ringing, a deep sounding call that reverberated through the floor.

Sliding out of bed, Remus tumbled to the ground. His legs felt like rubber, bending first left, then right under him, and he was down. He felt around in his pockets for his wand, but realized he wasn't wearing his clothing. Someone had wrapped him in a thick woolen robe to keep him warm. His legs up to his calves were exposed, and they were freezing. On the floor, Remus had no better view of the room than before. The ground was immaculately swept and of a hardwood texture.

Feeling alarmed, unknowing who had him - was Severus responsible for this? -, Remus looked around for some way out. Without his wand, he couldn't Disapparate. Perhaps it was still at hand. Pulling himself along with his upper body – which seemed to have recovered better than his lower half, Remus made his way over to the armoire in the corner. This, too, like the bed and door, was of an unpolished wooden design. Remus wasn't sure what to make of it.

Reaching up, he tugged at the lower drawer, but it would not budge. Remus scrutinized the surface, his eye staying at the thin slit of a keyhole on the bottom drawer. 'Hopefully not in that one,' he thought. Shifting forwards, he attempted to open the drawer above it. This one slid somewhat irregularly in his hands. It had a tendency to open more on one side at a time. Opening it enough to reach in proved difficult. Seesawing the opening, Remus made a gap, and reached in his arm, blindly.

An assortment of odd items met his hand. Everything from a broomstick, to books, to a cauldron – he felt. It seemed a witch or wizard did live here. No wand met his fingertips, however. If it was a magical person, they would know enough to keep a wand away from him. Even if they meant well – a dubious possibility, at best – Remus could and probably would still take his chances attacking the person for self-preservation before taking the time to ask whom it was.

Still, Remus had to try something. He grabbed at the broom. If it was magical, he could at least fly out of here, wand or no wand. Escape was the first step. He could find a new wand later. It might have broken in the fire anyway. The fire! Remus sat back a moment. The events leading up to his blackout came crashing back down on him. Snape knew! Had Snape survived? Would he tell the other Death Eaters or simply come for Remus himself? Was all of his recent pain, the betrayals he had served his friends, was it for nothing?

"You shouldn't sit on the cold, wood floor," a man said, "You're liable to catch a cold, old friend."

Remus turned, quickly, broomstick still clutched in his right hand. Framed in the doorway, larger than life, was Sirius Black, one of Remus' great mates from school.

"What?" Remus asked incoherently, "but how?"

"How did I find you?" Sirius asked, leaning over to take Remus' arm and help him back to his feet. "You kind of blew up a three block area. I know Flitwick warned us that fire was dangerous, mate."

"It was Severus," Remus said. "He lured me into a trap, and -"

"No need to go into details," Sirius said, somberly. "Dumbledore asked us not to pry too much if we see you. You're on some secret mission of his, we gather."

Remus walked with Sirius over to the bed, and sat back down on the edge. It was much warmer and softer than the floor. He realized he was much more tired than he had thought.

"But Sirius," Remus asked, "how did you heal me? I never thought you cared too much about the Healing Arts."

"I?" Sirius asked. "I didn't heal you. That body healed itself, and fast. You've been here for a day and a half, mate."

"A day?" Remus asked, astonished. "How is that possible?"

"People with your...condition..." Sirius began. He had always had a hard time approaching the subject directly with Remus. He preferred amusing innuendo and jokes to straight talk on matters this serious.

"Yes," Remus said, picking up the thread, "unless there was something silver in the source of the fire, I would heal quickly. At least some good has come of this curse, if just a minor reprieve."

"Don't talk like that," Sirius said, voice edged with nervousness. "You're still the old Remus we always knew."

Remus smiled, saying, "The Remus you always knew was always a werewolf."

"Haha," Sirius laughed, "too true, too true. But that's the spirit! Smiling already. That's what I like to see."

Remus felt like something was being avoided, like Sirius was navigating around a topic on tender feet. Then, it dawned on him. He could see it, a deeper sadness hiding in Sirius' eyes, forcibly disguised with a laugh and a smile. Remus could see it, now, as pure as day. He had not wanted to see anything but joy a moment before. What would you want to see on running into a friend after all that had passed?

Remus let his smile slide into a serious look of hopeful pleading. Sirius' face reacted, hesitantly, bracing for the question he knew was inevitable. Remus put it out there, asking, "Sirius, what happened at the wedding?"

"No one," Sirius asked, tentatively, "No one has talked to you, yet?"

"No," Remus said, turning pale with fear. Sirius' hesitation, from someone as easy-going as Sirius, terrified Remus. "Dumbledore said he would contact me, but he hasn't."

Sirius sat down on a side stool across from Remus. He leaned forward and looked up at Remus with pained eyes. "Now," Sirius said, "You have to understand that I don't blame you for what happened. Peter and Lily seem to understand."

"James?" Remus asked worriedly. He and James had had trouble before.

"James will take time, mate," Sirius said. "His...his parents died." Remus jerked back. "Not like that," Sirius corrected, putting out his hand in consolation. "The doctors think the stress of it hurt their hearts and they were very old, but James is still sore."

"The others?" Remus asked, trying to allay his fears at least somewhat. "How many were hurt or -"

"No one died at the wedding," Sirius answered, trying to inject some cheer to his speech, "Dumbledore appeared right away and waylaid the Death Eaters. I have never seen him so furious. Those he didn't disable fled like the cowardly scum they are. He told us, though, he told us you called him for help."

'So, that was it,' thought Remus. 'Most people don't know how to treat me, as hero or villain. No wonder no one was searching for him. Dumbledore probably told them to leave me alone, as well.'

It could have been worse, far worse, but he had done damage. He had hurt one of his great friends very deeply. Remus didn't know how you could repay a debt like that. It was his fault. He had just held that spoon aloft like an idiot, offered it, practically. He sagged a bit in the chair. Sirius got up, saying something about getting Remus some food. Remus let him go. He needed time to think. In the background, the church bells, from some nearby building, sounded again. It was quiet.


	20. Chapter 20: End of an Age

Remus rolled over and coughed, a yellow sludge mixed with blood oozed out of his mouth. He spat and coughed again. His limbs burned and his eyes were bloodshot. If it didn't hurt to breathe, he might have cried out. Remus could feel great cuts along his arms, scratches of his own making, healing quickly as he lay there. His transformations had become more violent lately.

After a few moments, Remus rose, still hacking up sludge of the monster's bile, and felt his way over to the tree to one side. Sliding aside a carefully concealed bit of wood, he gathered up his clothing and wand. The forest around him was dead quiet, still in a way that he had never found anywhere else. No one ever came here; the forest was dense and far removed from civilization.

It was the perfect place for his transformations. If the Ministry knew … but he was wanted for other things. Why quibble about a little Magical Creatures regulation when the Magical Enforcement Division was looking for you? The Ministry had "safety" transformation zones, but these were closely watched and regulated.

For a month or two, he had stayed at Fleinfold's home. It had been a fine place, both to stay and to transform. One day, however, he had seen a couple suspicious looking men outside. Following them, Remus had found himself near the entrance of the Ministry. Since that day, he had abandoned that comfort and gone off on his own. Whether the Ministry had known he was there or their presence was simply a coincidence was of little consequence.

He continued his work. The bank security box had had tasks for him on a regular basis, Snape's confrontation notwithstanding. Someone there must still trust him, unfortunately for them. He passed on the tasks to Dumbledore, informing him of everything he was asked to do. Dumbledore had never interfered, so far. 'He must be looking for some pattern,' Remus told himself.

Remus spent most of his time hiding. He could not be seen. As much as possible, he had to avoid the Order members. They were already under observation by the Ministry. It had not looked so favorably on Dumbledore's secret group. The ones they knew about, they had begun to track. James and the other Marauders were on their list. Remus was wanted for separate reasons.

Today, however, he had a rare chance to see some of them. Dumbledore was the only Order member Remus had regular contact with. Dumbledore sent messages via the Patronus, just as Remus sent them to him. Two days ago, Remus had received a short message.

A silvery patronus phoenix had appeared, soaring through Remus' wall. Remus was always amused by the ease with which Dumbledore seemed to find him. The phoenix, much as the real creature, flew with grace and effortlessness. It lofted up from its last dive and flapped its wings once before landing on the bedpost at the edge of his bed.

Remus had not moved, but watched it and waited. The phoenix opened its mouth and Dumbledore's voice spoke to him, "Remus, message from James and Lily. Child is on the way. Invitation to James' house on the fourth at noon for celebration." The Phoenix faded.

Remus felt a pang of sadness and joy with this news. He was very happy for them, but neither of them had written to him or sent a message themselves. It wasn't like they had no means of talking to him. If Dumbledore could find him, he could help them communicate, couldn't he? Maybe he insists on keeping them from him.

Still, Remus would go. He had to. This was a joyous pronouncement in an age of sadness and fear. There were things he needed to do, though. The child, boy or girl, would need a gift. That, he remembered from his parents' old friends parties, was customary. It had to be special, too. This was the son of one of Remus' best friends.

He had money, loads of it, now. Igor had been very precise and punctual with his payments. Remus was very well paid for his efforts. Yet, he hated the thought of it. That money was ill-gotten. He felt rotten in just having it, much less spending it on himself. Some of that money came from the wedding. Remus hated this lot most of all. That was blood money that he had never asked for. Yet, it was there, all of it, in the account. Remus hadn't touched a Knut, and he never wanted to.

How could he spend money he didn't feel right in using? Remus had formed a subsistence living for himself, taking on odd jobs for anyone, mostly Muggles, that he could find. He still had to stay under the radar of the Ministry, but he needed to eat. It kept him alive, but he had no money to spend on anything superfluous.

In the end, he made his decision. He wasn't sure how the two would take it, but Remus had no alternative. He was down to the bare essentials these days. If he had known a week before, maybe...but that was neither here nor there. Hard times called for hard decisions. Remus just hoped the child would appreciate it, someday. He sent off an owl and the deed was done.

The day of the celebration arrived. Remus prepared himself, as he did every time he left his current dwelling, to never return. He carried everything with him. It wasn't much, but he didn't have anything he could afford to lose. A change of clothing, his wand, and a few spare magical objects that might come in handy in a pinch. That was all he had in the world.

He Disapparated from the small flat he had found. The owners asked nothing but money, as soon as they could get it. The rent was cheap. You paid by day. If you disappeared, as many had in the week Remus had been there, the couple who ran the place never batted an eye. It was perfect.

Remus appeared at the Potter's home. It was the one his parents had owned. There were still singe marks on the grounds where burning spells had left their mark and an early chill winter had slowed nature's repair. The grounds were deserted. Remus moved lightly and quickly over the snow-patched earth, cloaked as well as he could manage in his tattered garb. He was a solitary speck of black on a field of white.

The house had taken no visible damage, and Remus felt some measure of relief in that. The air was bitter cold, cutting through his clothing effortlessly. He hugged his cloak tighter to him with little benefit. Remus' face felt like ice. It stung his face anew every time the wind kicked up.

The door came up too quickly, that bright red door that shone like a beacon – Remus knew not what of – at the end of his journey. He knew the door well, having lived at the Potter home for some months. It was like coming home after a long absence. Remus felt, again, that pang of regret around the thought of home. Home was the place you could go, a safe place that was always there waiting. Remus' houses were temporary and hardly ever safe. It was risky enough coming here.

The door flew open at his approach, and a burst of hot, dry air struck him. Remus flinched at the heat, accustomed, as he was, to the cold and damp. The winter air was little tempered by the thin walls and broken windows of the flats he had been forced to lease. The shock of this was not as much as the sudden appearance of the person opening the door.

It was Lily, looking brilliant and glowing. She spared him a look of concern over his appearance before enfolding him in a quick embrace. Remus felt a warmth from within match that without. He hadn't seen a friend in quite some time. He had hardly interacted with anyone.

"I'm so glad you could come!" she exclaimed, tugging him into the house. The door shut as if by magic (and perhaps it was), as the two began walking through the entrance.

"Thanks," he answered, "I wouldn't miss something this important. Not," and here he hesitated, "not if you both want me here."

Lily looked at him sternly, saying, "Of course we want you here." She pulled off his tattered cloak and hung it on a coat rack adjacent the long winding stair.

"It's just," Remus said, "after the wedding...I heard that James was..."

"James was upset," Lily said slowly. She continued more quickly, "He has calmed, though. James lost his parents; it was a difficult moment for him."

"I can understand," Remus said, thinking back to his own parents' deaths. Those, too, had seemed his fault. Everyone around him suffered. "If you are both happy to see me, then I'm glad I came, too."

"Good," Lily said, "Everyone is in the living room."

"Everyone?" Remus asked.

"The Full Order has shown up," Lily said, quietly. "It is most unusual. I don't think we've ever all appeared in one place at a single time."

"Isn't it dangerous?" Remus asked, a sudden panic setting it. He found himself more concerned about the accusing looks they would have for him. He had expected a handful of the closest Order members, not the entire set.

"I'm sure it is," Lily said, "but Dumbledore seemed to want it this way. He had some things to say to the whole group."

They came upon the door to the living room, and Remus felt something was off. There was no sound! With a room full of Order members who hardly ever saw each other, a dead quiet room was unnerving. Sensing his question, Lily answered.

"We have Silencing Charms set all around the room, to prevent spying ears from hearing anything. Dumbledore put them up himself. They are quite effective. If they are tampered with, we will all hear the quack of a duck. That's the cue for everyone to Disapparate."

"Well," Remus said, "before we go into the throng, I just wanted to wish you great happiness and congratulations."

"Thank you, Remus," Lily answered, smiling.

They entered the room. As the entrance had met Remus with a wall of warmth, this room met him with a wall of sound. People were talking to each other, many people. Remus didn't recognize half of them. The others he knew all too well. It seemed that the entire Order had beat Remus to the room. Dumbledore was in a corner exchanging a few words with another bearded, wizened looking wizard.

Was this a relative? Remus thought, for a brief instant, about how little he knew about his old Headmaster. His head continued turning. The Marauders were grouped around James, Sirius had his arm around James' thin shoulders in a playful embrace.

James' hair was tousled as ever, but his glasses had changed to a thinner style. His robes, too, were of a fine quality. It seemed work had done well for him. Sirius, gruff as he was, was well dressed. Peter looked as he always did, happy to be included. Remus remembered their little friend's doubts at his being a Gryffindor. These days it might be Remus who should doubt his place there more.

The others had grouped up and were happily discussing a variety of things. Not only did Remus not receive any glares, no one heard nor noticed Remus and Lily's arrival. Lily had probably hopped in and out to bring more people in. Lily waved Remus in, and he walked towards the Marauders, tentatively. His worries about James still remained.

Before he reached them, Dumbledore interrupted the various conversations, saying, "Ah, I see we are all here! Please, have a seat, a moment, before you attend to your wonderful festivities for Mr. And Mrs. James Potter and their coming bundle of joy. I have but a few words to say, as the Order has not come together like this since many of you have joined."

Everyone found a seat. Remus sidled onto a long bench besides a frizzy-haired old witch he did not know. There were assorted random noises as people settled in. A few of the older wizards gave no excuse for their loud groans as they settled off their feet. In a moment, there was true silence. It was an attentive, waiting silence that was almost as unnerving as Remus had had felt before he entered the room, like a held breath before the plunge.

Dumbledore looked around. "It is so good to see you all gathered here. Many of you have been on long and difficult missions for the Order of the Phoenix, and I thank you for that. I know I have told some of you the reason I have named us after the most beautiful of creatures, the Phoenix, but others may not know.

"The Phoenix, as you all know, represents rebirth and the cycle of life and death. It is the eternal regeneration from generation to generation, and the passing of wisdom from the dying to the young, as a flame to light the darkness of ignorance. In my time, I have seen the rise and fall of tyrants and powerful Dark Wizards. Each time, the world was sorrowed and blackened, scarred, if you will, by the passing of such evil deeds.

"Each time, also, the forces of light toppled those of darkness and spread happiness again. It is a cycle, I fear, we will ever face in all the ages of man. Like the cycle of the Phoenix, it will continue and the light and darkness will grow and shrink. As our present darkness grows, we must inflame the world with goodness, with the positive light of a generation determined to make a better world for our children. We hope that when Lily and James' child grows up, he will not see the darkness that we see. That all our members' children will see a brighter tomorrow and enjoy the benefits of our struggle.

"I am told, today, no less, that our very own Longbottoms are also expecting. To this I would wish great congratulations, for them, for the Potters, for all of us. It is the strength, solidarity, and hope of our members towards a brighter tomorrow that will bring us to victory. There will be pain and losses. I fear we may never gather as we have today. For that, I am saddened. Each member of this organization is a hero. You fight the fight that the work-a-day wizard would not. Where they are scared and fear for their lives and families, you brave it; you risk the danger because you cannot do otherwise.

"For, can any of you say you would not help, would not strive to stop the horrible things that the Death Eaters and their cruel master do? I know your answers, you gave them to me the day you joined me in this fight. Violence of any sort is a sad resort for man, but when necessity is so great, we must protect those who cannot protect themselves. You have all seen the papers, as well as I. You know the result of inaction, such as the Ministry has shown. They are pinioned by their own people, their processes, and the dark influences within. Some of you fight to help them. You, too, deserve praise. It is a difficult fight.

"As we enter the next phase of this war, remember the things we are fighting for. We are fighting for those to come, for our loved ones, living and gone. Keep that close to you as you go on your missions, however dangerous they may prove. I am so grateful to all of you for your work and sacrifices. It is an honor to work with each and every one of you."

Dumbledore then turned to Lily. "Now," he said. "Before we get too serious, I will perform an old custom for the Potters and for the Longbottoms."

"In ancient times," he continued, "the phoenixes were plentiful to be found among the lands of Wizard-Dom. With the onset of many wars and strife between the Muggles and Wizards, and with harsher treatment of magical creatures – including capturing and hunting – the phoenixes retreated into hiding. Before that time, the phoenixes would often live with an elder of the community, and would come with that elder to bless the newborn children.

"Not knowing what the future will hold for all of us, I have asked my friend, Fawkes, to join us to renew that traditional blessing for these new additions to the Order. Fawkes?"

With a flash of fire, the Phoenix, Fawkes, bright and beautiful as anything Remus had ever witnessed, emerged out of the air. It settled comfortably on Dumbledore's shoulder, and Dumbledore stroked its elegant neck. Fawkes looked around, inquiringly towards everyone present. When its eyes rested on Remus, he had a feeling as though the Phoenix could see into his heart, peering through his very being. Yet, it was not with judgment, but with compassion and love that it looked so. It reminded Remus of standing in the presence of Fleinfold. He reflected that both had a great affinity for fire.

The eyes passed, never stopping, in fact. Remus felt a great comfort with this creature here. It had been so long since he had come across more than the most hostile of Magical Creatures. It had been a long time for so many things.

The Phoenix, at last, set its eyes upon the pair of Lily and Alice, who stood together. It somehow knew these two were the women of the hour. Its mouth opened and it sang. Oh, how it sang! Remus felt his hand tremble on his leg, and his eyes swam with tears he had not shed in so long. He blinked them away, and saw that his were not the only eyes affected.

The music itself was a flowing harmony with few breaks, and the phoenix never seemed to breathe through the whole of it. Perhaps it did not breathe at all. The tone divided like a full choir, but blended so smoothly that it could only come from one pair of vocal chords. It was an uplifting and joyful song, with a deep and nearly-hidden undertone of eternal and tempered sorrow – an ode to the eternity the phoenix spent watching the beauty of new life and the pain of death.

When it stopped, as Remus had known it must, he felt that sudden pain of loss, the loss of a breaking heart. An empty void filled him, and Remus was left pondering the loneliness of his existence. The hope of new life girded him, but seemed somehow more distant to him. The faces around him held the gamut of emotions. It seemed the song spoke to each different from another.

Fawkes stood tall on Dumbledore's shoulder. It alone seemed immune to the power of its song. After an eternity, the song would not have the same impact. The two women, however, were crying, joyfully crying before it. Together, they bowed before the phoenix, and it inclined its head with regal austerity. Without hesitation, it leapt into the air and disappeared once again in flames.

The entire room let out a sigh. The room seemed darker, sadder, without it. However, in a moment, everyone seemed to forget. Remus, too, could recall the greatness of the visit, but the impact did not lessen the present moment anymore. Everything was as it should be.

The party began to stir and mill a moment before Lily caught everyone's attention. "Hey there! Everyone! I want to get a picture of the Full Order!"

She led them out to an adjacent room that had apparently been prepared for such an occasion. There was a small set of bleachers with a camera before them. Lily waved everyone up on the bleachers, the elder wizards staying towards the bottom, the spritely, younger crowd – such as the Marauders to the top. Remus finally met with his old roommates.

"Remus!" Sirius cried, pulling him into a bear-hug. Peter turned red with excitement. Even James appeared happy to see him. "Hey there, mate," he said. "Glad you could come."

Lily shoved in among them, next to James. She shouted over the din, "Look that way!" Everyone looked and smiled. The camera flashed, and green soot flew up from the top. A perfect picture, Remus was sure it must be. After the Phoenix song, Remus felt that lightness and closeness to these people, these friends and compatriots he had not seen in so long.

Thirty minutes later, Remus stormed out of the ballroom. The door slammed against the wall before nearly shutting in rebound. He flew down the corridor, not stopping when he reached for his cloak. The coat stand, and the dozen or so carefully arranged (and much finer cloaks) toppled to the ground, spread in a jumbled heap behind him. Remus didn't even slow down. The front door slammed behind him, swung almost as much by the wind as by his titanic push.

He slowed only when he emerged into the out-of-doors. As the cold air struck him, Remus felt a strong wave of remorse roll over him. He slowed to a stop, looking over his shoulder briefly. The door remained shut, just as he had left it. Its frozen façade appeared as an Iron Gate shut behind him. He knew it was still unlocked and that he could easily have gone back, but the true barrier was much greater because he had created it himself.

With one last glance, he trudged on, slower than before, but just as definite. He had soon left the Potter home far behind him, forever. Some schisms are too wide to be repaired, Remus was sure this was true with his and James. They had fought, and not as they ever had before. This fight was not about Lily nor even about what had happened at the wedding, not specifically. These things were of the past. They pained the two less than before.

Remus reflected on it painfully as he walked, forgetting entirely that he could simply Apparate to his current dwelling, miles away from the Potter home. Instead, he marched on, enduring the cold, hardly noticing the rattling of his teeth, the numbness that was swelling into pain around his joints. Remus was lost in the past few moments, trying to determine what had gone so horribly and irreparably wrong.

With the business portion of the meeting over, those remaining to congratulate the Potters and celebrate with them had retired to the ballroom. Quite a few Order members had departed, those who knew the Potters less well and those - like Dumbledore - who had other things to attend to. This left a small, closer group of friends, which increased the cheerful mood within.

The girls gathered around Lily and grew suddenly very chatty. The guys grouped together to congratulate James. Remus, once again, found himself in an awkward position. He had no idea what his friends had done since the wedding. They had all immediately jumped into the topic at hand, but he really wanted to catch up with them. With the war and so on, there should be much to hear. So he, jumped in, at one point.

"Say James," he broke in, "how's the Auror life treating you?"

"It's great," Frank Longbottom answered before James, "right Captain?"

"Captain?" Remus asked, surprised. "You made Captain already?"

James smiled, "Good to see my friends are happy I'm successful."

"Of course, I'm happy!" Remus cried, embarrassed. "I was just a bit surprised. You've only been an Auror a year now, right?"

"Eight months," James said, enjoying the attention, "actually."

"Well congratulations, mate," Remus said.

"Yeah, couldn't have happened to a sorrier Auror," Sirius tossed in.

James gave Sirius a fake-pained expression. "You can be so cold sometimes," he said, his voice sad with a strong sarcastic undertone. Everyone laughed.

James' face turned a little more serious when he addressed Remus again. "The war has made promotions almost a way of life," he said. "We've lost many a fine Auror."

Remus nodded, solemnly. He had heard the ranks of the Aurors, the Magical Law Enforcement Department in general, had taken quite a hit in the past few months.

"What about you, then, mate?" Sirius asked Remus. "Last I saw, you were nearly getting yourself blown apart."

"Yes," Remus laughed lightly, "well, I always thought Severus had nothing against me. Turns out that was a bad assumption."

"Snivelly," James snarled, "I'd like to show him what I think of him."

"Now, now," Peter broke in, surprising Remus, "It's been a long time, James. Surely we can let how he acted slide a little?"

"Never," James answered, "You don't act like that towards people, especially friends."

Peter backed off; looking like a child whose hand had been slapped. Remus was confused. He hadn't heard anything about Severus except for his own confrontation.

"What happened with Severus?" he asked.

"What happened?" James asked, growing red about the face. "He started writing to Lily about us. He said terrible things about each of us and told her she was a fool to associate herself with such rabble. He wrote several letters of this kind to my wife!"

"But, but they stopped, right?" Remus asked, hoping to shift the conversation.

"Not until he had his final say," James said, angrier than ever. Remus immediately regretted urging him that direction. "He called her horrible things in his last letter. It was the angriest note I've ever seen. That bit of trash insulted her, after everything!"

Remus thought. It seemed so strange to him to hear of Severus insulting Lily. Remus had always sort of felt that Severus had a thing for her. Still, maybe her choice in James had pushed him over the edge. He had been wild the last time Remus had seen him. Anything could have happened.

Apparently Remus had looked more pensive than outraged. James swung his anger around like a brandished torch. "What?" he asked, "Do you not like to hear bad things about your new friend Severus? You always seemed a little more chummy with him than most."

"Me?" Remus asked, laughing. Laughter was not what James was looking for.

"Yes, you!" James cried out. "You don't seem very upset that Snively insulted Lily."

"James," Remus said, trying to rein in his instinctual anger at the attack, "he attacked me! He nearly blew me up in that warehouse."

"Yeah, yeah," James sputtered, "so you say! Who was there? How do we know you didn't do that yourself? Maybe you're trying to remind the Order how much you're on our side. We've been on the lookout for a spy, maybe you're the one."

"James!" Remus cried, shocked and indignant. "Do you really thing I would spy on any of you? That I would betray my friends that way?"

Sirius stepped in, "Yeah, mate," he said, consolingly. "Besides, Remus hasn't been around any of us in months. How effective is a spy that never sees his targets?"

"He's here now!" James shouted, suddenly drawing the attention of the women from the other side of the room. They turned to stare, quietly, as James continued yelling at Remus. "And where has he been? He's off doing work for Dumbledore, he says. What work? Oh, he can't tell us. He disappears for many months, never giving us any word about him after letting a throng of Death Eaters into my wedding. I'm sure he has a good explanation for that; he always does. We don't even know you these days.

"You might as well have just joined up with the Death Eaters. Every time we've heard anything about you, it's the Ministry looking for you in connection with something illicit. I'm sure he'll say that it's something to do with his work for Dumbledore. And what of that? What have you done to help the Order? We haven't had any easy leads. We can't seem to make any headway against them, and here you are just pals with the lot of 'em.

"Well, you all may believe him, whoever he is these days, but I don't. I can see how he's changed. He looks nothing at all like the Remus we all knew in school. He's looking more and more like them, sniveling and dark. Maybe they've changed him. But does it matter whether he wanted to or not? He's working for them and becoming one of them. What good can come from that?"

Lily came quickly across the room. "James!" she cried, "that's enough! You have no right to speak to Remus this way!"

Remus hardly heard her. His mind was reeling. It wasn't just that James was saying these things, these cruel things. It wasn't even that he said it to Remus in front of Lily and all of their friends. What got to Remus was the thought that maybe…maybe he was sort of right.

Remus had a lot to deal with day in and out. He worried about the state of the world, and with what he could do to help. Yet, it seemed, at every turn, that he failed at it. He failed and made things the worse for the effort. Nothing he did ever seemed to make the situation better. He did work for the Death Eaters! He delivered things, used magical and physical skills to help them. Did he get anything out of it that could help Dumbledore and the Order? Remus had always doubted it, from his heart. It hurt to feel his worthlessness. To hear it verbalized by someone he wouldn't harm for the world was a slap strengthened by months of self-doubt.

What separated him from the Death Eaters? They both did illegal things. He did it hoping to better his cause, just as they did for theirs. If the motivation alone separated them, could Remus live with himself? Sure, they did more terrible and violent deeds, but what of it? The degree of the deed does not alleviate or strengthen the answer to the question, is it right?

Something snapped for Remus. It was not intentional, but he felt like he was suddenly wallowing in anger and pain. He felt it about himself, but there was another angry antagonist readily available to take the hit. Remus turned on James.

"What do you know about my life, James?" he cried, his voice hardly recognizable. "You stand there, dressed like a little prince, in a house your parents made for you, and seek to judge the plebian before you. I come here to congratulate you and Lily for the child you have coming, and you turn around and harass me about what my life has become.

"You've had everything handed to you on a silver plate, James. Everything came easy for you! And here you stand, furious that the result of a complicated set of events killed your parents. Well, guess what! Life is hard. Mine died trying to find a cure for me! Try dealing with that one! And try dealing with monthly reminders of what happened one moonlit night ten years ago! I was a child, James! Not even in school and ever after cursed! A blessing is on your house, James! Nothing ever happens to you that cannot be resolved before you get to sleep at night in your great Kingly bed.

"You question my honor, my choices in life! You question me? After all the things you and Sirius spearheaded, all the trouble you two got us into! Did we question the sensibility of it? No! We were your friends, James. Your friends. You have lost sight of what that means. I may have to live on the cold remains of a wilted life, but at least I care.

"You asked why I've never spoken to you. What of it? You've never made the effort, either, and your means are greater. I am in constant fear of discovery by the Ministry. I am terrified of the Death Eaters learning what I am about, and uncertain of what even the Order must think of me now. I'd tell you to go to Hell, James, but I'd rather not share it with you."

With that, Remus had stormed out. He didn't see or acknowledge anyone, but he could hear Lily's sobs over the dead silence of the other members of the party. He had left without giving anyone a chance to intercede and without letting James get in a final word. It felt good as he did it. Afterwards, he felt and relived his own words like daggers plunged into his heart.

As he walked up to his current dwelling, Remus felt a first tear begin to well up at the corner of his eye. The chill wind had left his face numb and made his hands raw. With icy hands, he wiped away the tear and stepped up the stairs to the door. Inside, it would be little warmer, but he would escape the cold wind. He would not, however, escape that accusing thought: what have you become?


	21. Chapter 21: A Time to Fight

Remus' footsteps echoed hollowly as the rooms fell away behind him. There was a section he had to enter here, off to the left, an actual section of the Department. So far, he had only seen a few hallways off the lift bank. The depth and complexity of this Department astounded Remus. Whereas the other Departments fit in what he would judge to be a city block, the Department of Mysteries appeared to stretch on for miles in every direction. The map Remus had seen of it did nothing to dissuade this impression.

This section passed through a large analysis chamber before he would reach his targeted room. No one had said what they studied there. To his right, as Remus turned, he saw a familiar hallway. He hadn't been down here since the hearing, since his moment of shame. He opened the door into the new chamber.

As with every hallway he had passed, this new room was unoccupied. It was laid out in a circle of benches around a raised dais. An archway stood on the dais with a curtain draped across the opening. It rustled despite the stillness, the unnatural stillness in the air. The arch itself was of a hardened stone, and appeared quite ancient. Remus' eyes were immediately drawn to it, but he kept far away from it. It gave off a powerful presence and made Remus feel uneasy.

He began to walk around it, passing along an inner row of benches, but he stopped suddenly. Someone was here! He could hear a voice, indistinct but close. Remus looked around, but could not see anyone to match with the voice that continued to speak. He kept walking, uncertain if he had heard the voice before. It sounded somehow familiar.

Remus did not have time to investigate; he had a mission to attend to. Leaving the room with the strange archway and mysterious voices, Remus entered a room that was empty but for a large oaken bureau. This stood off to one side, as though forgotten. Remus was quite sure, however, that the Ministry took a keen interest in the contents of this particular piece of furniture. The air was different here, musky and not fresh, like the air from within a tomb. While the rest of the Ministry was rather pristine, a little too carefully done up, this room was the only way it could be.

Remus approached with caution, sensing, as well as he could, for hidden magical alarms. Still a novice at the difficult art, he took his time at it. The Locking Charms were obvious, and would require little effort to pass through. There were also charms preventing summoning and other non-physical acquisitions. Remus felt something deeper, however, gnawing at him. Remus attempted slow approaches from a few different directions, but could not make out what it was. Turning away, he could suddenly see it clearly. The approach was not the danger.

The Ministry did not care if anyone made it to the chest and took something. Walking away would not be so easy. There was a line of glittering fire across the floor, encircling the chest of drawers and fifteen feet of floor around it. From outside the circle it had not been apparent, disguised by some other device, no doubt.

It was called a Forge Line, an effective tool for snaring sneak-thieves and robbers, specifically those who worked alone or were foolish enough to approach as a group. A Forge Line could be crossed once without fear, but to re-cross required an outside party to forge a pact of friendship with the sign of a proffered arm. The inside party would accept this token of friendship by grasping the arm, and the pair would pass safely back across.

If the arm was rejected, both persons would be stuck within the circle. For thieves and scoundrels, this made for a difficult dilemma. When working in the underworld, it was difficult to know if the thief next to you could be trusted. If they were working for the Ministry, they would reject your arm and the pair would have to wait for the Ministry officials. Entrapment was one of the Ministry's favorite policing techniques of the day.

'Of course,' thought Remus, 'The Ministry officials only needed to remove the line to apprehend the thief.'

Committed, regardless, Remus determined to take the thing he was sent for. At least, then, he would have some small insurance against the Ministry's agents. Turning back towards the chest he waved his wand carefully and the top drawer unlocked. He slid open the drawer and marveled at what he saw. The drawer held evenly spaced circlets of gold holding tiny hour glasses. These seemed to pivot at the turn of a knob on the side.

Time Turners! Dozens of them sat delicately affixed before Remus' eyes. He only had need of one, however. Even one Time Turner displaced would set the Ministry at alarm – assuming Remus found a way out of here with one. More gone might begin a widespread panic. Time Turners were terribly powerful magical objects and should not be left in uncertain hands. Remus knew this, and, still, he was following orders to deliver it up to Igor.

It felt wrong. Remus had been conflicted from the moment he had picked-up the latest note from the bank security deposit box. He had secretly hoped that Dumbledore would order him not to do it when Remus gave him notice of the latest message. As previously, however, Remus heard nothing from Dumbledore. The silence he could not stand. It neither told him that Dumbledore agreed nor disagreed with what he was doing. In fact, the old Headmaster hadn't said a word to Remus about the plan since its inception, forcing Remus to doubt his own memories.

The memories were too real to have been faked. Dumbledore had to know. If not, wouldn't Remus' constant messages tell him something was amiss? As Remus reached for a Time Turner, his thoughts returned to this same argument, and he paused. Perhaps it was his guilty conscience, but Remus could almost swear he felt someone watching him. With one last moment of hesitation, Remus picked up one of the Time Turners, wrapped it in a handkerchief, and placed it in his pocket. The deed was done.

Now, Remus only had to find a way out of the Forge Line. He closed the drawer and turned back towards the door. Only now, there was someone between him and the door. A hooded figure stood still, watching him. Remus whipped out his wand by instinct, pointing the tip at the unknown person. Remus was strongly reminded of his last meeting with Severus. The silent entrance of this person unnerved Remus most of all.

The figure did not react to Remus' drawn wand. It seemed to simply study him and wait. What was it waiting on? Remus took the quiet as a sign of malice and smug security.

"Who are you?" he asked; voice a hard, carrying whisper.

"It is of no consequence," a gruff whisper returned. "You need a hand, it seems. I would appreciate if you would not aim your wand at me when I have come to set you free."

"You have come to -" Remus began, "How did you know I would be in here?"

"There is little time," the man said. "Take my arm and leave. They will find you soon."

With no other words, the man held out a bare arm through the circle. Remus marveled at the trust in it. If this were a Death Eater, why would he trust Remus enough to risk being stuck with him? Certainly Severus would not have done it. Severus probably had him pegged as a member of the Order. If they were caught, Dumbledore would get Remus off as he helped capture a malicious Death Eater. At least, Remus hoped he would.

Remus watched the figure for a moment. Was it a trap? Why would someone free Remus only to ambush him? The man could easily have cursed Remus when his back was turned. 'If he's fast enough,' Remus thought, 'he could curse me yet.'

He lowered his wand. A little trust could do him well this time. He stepped cautiously forward, watching the non-proffered hand. It hadn't moved. Clasping the arm with his, Remus was pulled forward and free from the ring.

"Well," Remus said stupidly, "thanks. I… Is there something you want in repayment?"

"No," he said, something pleased with himself. "You seem to be doing more than your share of work against your debts."

Remus was perplexed by this answer, but asked no follow-up questions. The figure ran off without a goodbye, no final word. He was there one moment, then out the door. By the time Remus stopped the swinging door, all the doors in the room beyond were closed and the man was nowhere to be seen. Remus hesitated. Who was that man? Why had he helped Remus and then fled?

This room, again, had the great arch, and was empty but for the indistinct voice. Ignoring it, Remus listened for any other sound. There was none. He began to run forward, passing the arch and flying through the door at the far end. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'whoever that was, will be stuck at the lift and I will meet him there.'

When he reached the lifts, there was no one there. Resigned, Remus ascended to the lobby. Since the war had begun, there was no Apparating or Disapparating from within the Ministry. The hope was to catch Death Eaters before they could escape. Instead, the Death Eaters sent Remus in. Remus heard voices down a hallway as he crossed the lobby entrance. He walked up to the phone booth, Confunded it, and rode it back to the surface. He had made it out with the Death Eater's prize.

The booth carried Remus up to the street level. He flicked his wand behind him briefly, removing the Confundis Charm, before pocketing it. The alley was quiet and dark. The hour was late and no one walked the streets of London at night, at least, not these days. Remus Disapparated, leaving behind only a brief cracking sound before the alley was once more deserted and dead quiet.

He appeared at the entrance to a large, unfamiliar mansion. The gate was elaborate and opened into a garden. Remus approached the gate, and, as he had been told, it opened for him. He crossed through the garden, not lighting his wand, as instructed. Remus nearly tripped on some large birds in the dark. The squawk sound they made convinced him they were birds, but he did not see them. Soon, he had made his way to the front door, again, elaborate and beautiful as the gate.

This opened for him, this time by a familiar man. Igor smiled broadly at Remus, pulling him through the doorway in a bearish half-hug. Remus could hear many voices in the backyard. Apparently, Remus had arrived during a party. He fought a sense of revulsion about being so near his old friend and his companions, managing a cordial, serious expression.

"Remus!" Igor exclaimed happily. "So glad you made it! You have the item, I take it?"

Remus nodded in ascent.

"Good, good!" Igor replied. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but a friend of mine is having a bit of a party today and I thought it best to have you deliver the item quickly. It is fairly expensive."

"Of course," Remus said, "I hope the boss will be happy to get his antique back. The Ministry can be so bothersome about heirlooms."

"Yes," Igor answered, winking. He will be pleased, and you will be richly rewarded."

Remus handed over the Time Turner, wrapped carefully in a handkerchief. Igor accepted it gingerly, looking inside for a moment, and smiling. "Thank you, my friend," he said. Igor slipped the Turner into his waistcoat and, patting Remus on the sleeve said, "See you again, soon."

Remus took one last look down the hallway toward the room with the party before saying, "Farewell," to Igor, and walked out the front door.

He walked back along the path. Now, with the light from the mansion, he could see what appeared to be a peacock trotting behind the crest of a small hill. Atop this hill a large yew tree had grown. For the location, it was an odd tree, but Remus supposed that anyone with this much money could have plants brought in from wherever. In fact, Remus thought he could make out a palm tree in the darkness. Suddenly, he lost interest in the trees. There was a man out there; at least it appeared so from his gait.

Remus had an uneasy feeling that he had seen this man before. His eyes tracked the moving body as he slowed to a stop. The man had either taken no notice of Remus or didn't care about him. He had continued on, quickly moving through the grove of trees. When the moonlight, thin as it was this time of the month, played across the figure, Remus' fear was confirmed. It was the same man who had freed him. Was he following Remus?

The man continued along the edge, moving towards the house, not Remus. The fear subsided somewhat, replaced by trust. He did not appear to be invited, but he was clearly no sneak thief. If he was he would have either taken the Turner from Remus when he saved him or used Remus to get him one, as well. So, Remus wondered what the man wanted to do. Without a thought, Remus turned and began to creep behind the man, from a distance. The man was quite intent on this walk, not paying attention to anything but the building in front of him.

At a window, the man paused, moving his right arm a bit. The window opened, and Remus assumed he had used some magic. The man entered, leaving Remus outside wondering still with no clear answers. Ever more curious, Remus approached an adjacent window and looked in. He started at what he saw.

It was a small study, fashioned in an older style with antique, hand-crafted furniture and shelves of books that appeared old enough to pre-date the Ministry. Inside, a group of four Death Eaters, masked and cloaked, stood beside the mahogany desk around Igor – who was still dressed as Remus had seen him. They appeared very interested in the Time Turner he was presenting.

Remus fumed inside himself, angry that he had helped the Death Eaters this way. Of course, he had known the consequences of his actions, but it was difficult to face so directly. Remus could not tell who they were, but saw their simple comfort with each other. It was hard to imagine Death Eaters getting along so nicely, cruel as they were towards others.

He had a sudden urge to do something – smash through the window, stun them, and take the Turner back – anything. He could picture the looks of surprise changing to anger. Surely there were too many for one man. It would be foolish and Remus would wind up dead for nothing. 'Nothing!' he thought, angrily. 'Are lives nothing? This powerful magical object is dangerous in the hands of such men. The ability to manipulate time should not be trifled with.'

Still, he was frozen. Whether from fear or a sensible part of him that warned against such a wasteful effort, he did not know. In an instant, as though hearing Remus' thoughts and having the nerve to act upon it, the mysterious man broke through the door with his wand blazing. Remus had never seen such quick spell work. Time appeared to freeze as he took them down one-by-one. The floor was littered with Death Eaters, stunned and petrified before any of them had managed to draw his own wand.

Remus could see the reflecting surprise across the faces of Igor and another unmasked Death Eater. The impact of a spell or the fall must have removed his mask. Remus did not know this other man. The mysterious figure leaned over, took the Time Turner from Igor's hand, and walked directly over to the window Remus was watching through. Remus, seeing the man approach with no time to hide, stood frozen in place.

The window opened to his hand, and the man hopped out of the window to stand next to Remus, cowl still covering his face.

"Come," he said. "They will be found soon."

Remus followed as the man sprinted across the lawn. No one had emerged from the house before they had left the yard, gate still happily opening at their approach. Remus followed the running figure until he stopped, mere blocks from the house.

Turning to face Remus, he said, voice still harsh and strained, "There will be a clash between the Order and the Death Eaters this night. They will fight at St. Mungo's in one hour's time." He added, "The Order will need your help as never before."

Remus asked, "How do you know this?"

"Never mind that," the man said. "The Death Eaters have targeted an injured member of the Order, and the Order will arrive to protect him. You may need this. Take it back." The figure handed Remus the Turner, adding, "Be more careful to whom you entrust it."

"But…I mustn't go," Remus began. "I have to maintain my cover."

He could hardly believe how much he was telling this stranger. Admitting, as he was, that he was not only a member of the Order, but also that he was actually fooling the Death Eaters in the process was a serious and dangerous choice. Still, the figure had just attacked Death Eaters unprovoked and without hesitation.

"There is a time to wait and a time to fight," he told Remus. "A man knows when to do each."

With that, the hooded mysterious man Dissaparated, leaving Remus standing there, dumbly, alone, and uncertain. This man, whoever he was, was certainly brave, perhaps to the point of foolhardiness, but what he was suggesting would undo the work that Remus had fought so hard with himself to continue. He had gained favor with Igor, at least, if not incidentally with others.

He couldn't deny that he had wanted it for a very long time. Remus had always wanted to be there, with James and Sirius, at the front lines. This sneaking and conniving way was tiresome and frustrating. He felt underused and unappreciated for it. Remus could not imagine people feeling overly happy about what he contributed, but he did it as well as he could. The primary goal was to win the war, but that seemed so far off. Minor victories would help Remus so much.

He hesitated because of Dumbledore. The old headmaster was playing some grand chess game against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Surely Remus was in his place, the werewolf piece, just where Dumbledore had wished him to be. He was no piece of importance, but even the pawns were critical for true strategists. Then again, Remus had been left to his own devices. It was he who had managed the relationship with the Death Eaters, he who had taken risk after risk, and he who had suffered for the actions. He knew his work caused harm with that vague hope of making it up with later dividends. When?

His mind cried out that question again, as it so often did. "A man knows…" the brave figure had said, but was Remus truly a man? Aside from his condition, he never saw so clearly as this man implied he should. He could never see through the fog of distrust and uncertainty. He was always holding, always conscious of the drawbacks of his chosen path. Remus was wanted by the Ministry, avoided by the Order, and liked by his enemies. If he did this thing, if he fought at St. Mungo's, he would be disliked all around.

'But is it that important to be liked?' a thought made itself known. 'What is important is the fight against evil.'

'It could all be a trap,' another broke in. 'You are playing a slippery game, why not them? Perhaps it is Severus trying to prove your disloyalty.'

'Would Severus risk it at his own peril?' the first thought asked. Imploring, it continued, 'If your friends are at risk and helpless innocents, is it not your duty to protect them?'

Remus nodded in consent. He would go to St. Mungo's. It was time to fight.


	22. Chapter 22: No More Waiting

Dark Alley, the most dangerous area of London, at least in the past several years, was controlled by the Death Eaters. The Muggle world – so Remus had heard – associated the area with violent mobsters on the run from various other countries. Everyone knew it meant bad news and avoided it. Even Dumbledore had never planned a direct assault. It was a tight four block section of back alleys and terrible, decrepit buildings.

Few had braved the trip. No one had ever returned. The police, even the military, didn't dare attack the denizens. Some speculated payoffs were made, but no one could prove anything. Only Death Eaters, cloaked and masked, entered and exited. If anyone had information about the attack tonight, Remus was sure it would be someone there.

With an hour to spare before the attack, Remus determined that he should be sure there would be one at all. As inspirational as the stranger's words were, to go without any confirmation was dangerous. After all, St. Mungo's was run by the Ministry. Just showing up could get Remus arrested. Still, a visit to Dark Alley was not particularly a pleasant idea.

Remus didn't intend to enter, per say, but catch a Death Eater on the way out or in. Even so, the proximity to the deadly alley was enough to send shivers running through him. As dank and oppressive as many of his recent flats had been, just passing by there made him feel worse. He had done so twice in the past year, once on a mission, the other time by accident. It took a few hours to get the stench of the dampness, so peculiar to that area, off his robes.

Before he went, though, Remus would need to get a heavier robe, one that did not look like him, and one with a cowl to cover his face. If it were a trick, Remus could not afford the Death Eater he questioned to reveal his treachery.

The cloak was a simple matter. Remus had lived off of bare sustenance long enough to find clothing where he could. The park trash bins had some of the best cloaks. Remus wasn't sure, but he assumed people sullied the cloaks at sport or from unruly animals and no longer wanted their dirty jackets and cloaks.

Feeling reckless, Remus Disapparated and appeared in the middle of a park. It was late, a little after midnight, and the park was deserted but for a few sleeping bums. They didn't move at the sharp crack sound Remus' appearance brought. He moved to the nearest bin, and sure enough, as though placed there for him, a large cloak was draped over the edge.

Seizing it, Remus tossed his current cloak into the bin. The new one was dirty, yes, and a little threadbare, but fit well and was less torn about the ankles than his old one. He pulled it close about him and pulled the hood down over his face. Perfect! It covered his face completely. Now, to Dark Alley.

Remus appeared at the lip of the alley facing across to the northwestern edge of Dark Alley. The alley was before him, dark and uninviting as the maw of a beast. Fortunately, he didn't have to enter there. He didn't think he could. His feet were glued to the floor of the alley, his entire body felt as though someone had put a Full Body Bind on it. Remus trembled. The heart of evil was so close, so terribly close. Only a madman would enter there, a man hoping, perhaps, for death.

Remus ducked back out of view as someone flew past the alleyway he occupied. How? It was the figure again, cloaked as before, and flying as from hell, not toward it as he truly was. This time the figure made no acknowledgment of Remus, solely intent on his goal. Before Remus had time to think, the figure was in Dark Alley. 'Who was that guy?' Remus wondered. 'He must wish for death.' He had to. It was too crazy.

Remus waited outside. If the man was discovered, Remus would never have a chance to catch a Death Eater unawares. They would all be on high alert and would probably catch him where he stood, regardless. It was a tense moment, waiting to be discovered or for…he knew not what. What could the man hope to accomplish in the den of vipers? Surely he did not mean to fight them? No one had ever entered so boldly and survived.

He considered leaving. It wasn't safe. If he ran, he might be spotted. If he Disapparated, he only increased the danger for this foolhardy man. Any sudden sound could alert them. Apparating in the first place had been dangerous. A second crack would probably catch someone's attention. So, he waited.

The seconds ticked on into minutes. The silence was heavy and weighed on Remus, but he couldn't do anything but stay still. He looked at the buildings around him, observing the fine, but antiquated architecture. These buildings had seen the hand of skilled and caring artisans, built with attention and love. They had fallen into disrepair and were close to collapse. Remus felt a sudden pang of sadness before he remembered the position he was in.

Like a feather falling to earth, Remus heard running footsteps. For the speed of it, there was hardly any sound. But who was coming? Remus felt a mixture of hope and fear. The seconds slowed, and suddenly Remus saw him, the figure, at the edge of the alley, flying across the space separating them. He was carrying something, something rather large.

Remus saw the man's arm twitch into his pocket, pulling out a wand. Turning slightly, the man pointed back along the alley he had just exited and yelled something that rent the silence. Remus could not understand it; there was so much anger in that voice. What he was sure of was the result. The closest buckling building exploded, coming down in a cloud of dust, ash, fire, and with a noise that gashed the heavens.

The figure grabbed Remus roughly by the shoulder and pushed him down the alley. Remus began to run on his own, still in shock at what he had seen. They ran, hard and long. By the end of it, Remus wasn't sure of where they were. The figure stopped, dropping what he carried on the ground. It was a man. A mask tumbled, clattering loudly on the alley floor.

Remus didn't recognize him, but he knew the mask. This man was a Death Eater. The figure had charged into Dark Alley, taken a Death Eater out of it, and destroyed a building on the way out. Remus had to admire the guts. He felt scared, though. Even running as far as they had, Remus felt sure the entire might of the Death Eater clan was about to descend upon them.

The figure pointed his wand at the man, muttering, "_Ennervate_," and stood imperiously above him. Then, with his other arm outstretched, he demanded, "Hand it over!"

"I don't … don't know what you're talking about," the fallen man spoke in a distinctly odd, squeaky voice.

"You know," the figure said, openly angry. "I saw you pick it up, and I want it back."

Remus remained silent, unsure of what they were talking about. Although the figure had acted against the Death Eaters a couple times now, Remus felt a little scared of him. He menaced this Death Eater for something, threatening with tone, if not actual words. Remus did nothing, though. He did not intervene, he did not help.

"I…I," the man stuttered.

"_Diffindo_" the figure said, calmly, and a deep gash appeared across the man's leg. He cried out. The figure aimed the wand higher, steadily at the man's chest.

"Alright…alright," he said, wincing. "I have it here. Take it. Take it."

The man held out a small parcel. His hand shook, weakly. Remus could see his face better when he turned it up pleadingly at the figure. It was cut in several places and pale. That hadn't happened when he fell on the ground. This man was wounded already.

In an instant, the figure had taken the parcel, and walked away, calling behind him, "He's all yours."

Remus found himself alone with the quivering, injured man. The man still looked up, face still pleading. As bad as he felt for the man, he was a Death Eater. He did terrible things all the time, and he might know something useful. Frowning, Remus turned his wand to the man. He didn't want to hurt the man, but maybe he wouldn't have to.

"There is going to be an attack tonight," he said simply, coldly. "Where?"

"No," the man moaned, voice still high but sounding belabored. "I won't…I can't…"

"Tell me what I want to know," Remus heard himself uttering. '_Levicorpus_,' he thought.

The man was jerked by his foot into the air, dangling such that his face was at eye-level with Remus. A trickle of blood began to drip softly from the man's nose to the ground, an irregular plunk that caught Remus' attention. Something in him stirred, interested and excited at the site of the falling blood.

He was repulsed by it, but that did not make him enjoy it any less. For a moment, Remus forgot about the attack and the reason he was here. He fought within himself to fight off the sudden craving for meat, the sudden fascination with the blood of another. It wasn't the full moon. He wasn't the monster.

Meanwhile, the man's face had become beet red, and reflecting the star and moonlight from the thin layer of sweat. He gasped for air, evidently not feeling well even before he found the world on its head. When the man coughed up some blood, Remus took notice suddenly, and let the man fall back down.

"Well?" Remus demanded, hiding his distaste for this whole thing.

The man coughed and spat; the floor at Remus' feet was turning red. "Ok, ok," the Death Eater said. "It's at St. Mungo's, they're after an Order member there, but you're too late to stop them. It's too late."

And the man gave a weak but sinister laugh. It angered Remus just to hear it. After whatever he had faced that night, the fool was still up to laughing at his foes. Remus restrained himself, fighting the urge to give the man a parting kick. He had more important things to do.

Turning his back, he walked boldly away from the Death Eater. Halfway down the alley, he turned back for an instant. "It's never too late," he said. With a swirl of his cloak he Disapparated.

He appeared in the lobby of St. Mungo's. Even with the war, Apparition into the hospital was still allowed. He charged down the familiar entrance, fighting off memories that sought to freeze him still. There was sound above, muffled yells, and the sounds of spells crashing into surfaces.

Remus tore forward, cutting across the reception area to the stairwell. The floor and walls here showed signs of a battle. They had passed through here already. As he leapt up the first few steps, he felt as though he had run into a solid wall. His knee slammed into a flat surface and his upper body met up with it. Remus toppled backwards painfully onto his back. The ceiling swam, disorganized, for another few moments.

When his eyes came back into focus, Remus could see a light, green haze between him and the stairwell. It was blocked off. Someone wanted to keep out intruders. Remus rose to face the blockage. His wand appeared in his hand, and he prepared to break through. At that moment, the loudest noise Remus had ever heard came screaming down the stairwell, chased by a tremendous ball of fire.

He hardly had time to put up a shield charm before he was blasted backwards. The explosion rattled around in his ears, deafening him. He looked up to see the stairs ablaze, and the ceiling above him sagged, collapsing under the weight of the floors above. Remus had arrived too late. He could hardly make his way upstairs, much less be of any use at this point. The Death Eater had been right. He had failed.

Or had he? Remus had fallen back from the blast, despite the power of his own shield charm. The explosion had tossed him like a toy. He felt an uncomfortable lump under his chest, close to his heart. Rolling over, he felt at it, and in an instant, realized what he was feeling.

Pulling the Turner loose, Remus considered it. Time Travel was dangerous, of course, but if he could do something, anything, to protect the people upstairs from the explosion that seemed an inevitability, that would be something, wouldn't it? And he, at least, had forewarning of its presence and the intensity of it. He had felt it first hand.

One turn, that would do it. One hour would give him plenty of time to get up there before the Death Eaters and warn the vigilant Order members. He could still help them win the day. Yes. Remus felt confused. He knew he should wait, he should think about it, hesitate, at least. Yet, no part of him spoke up; no part fought this strong, sudden desire to do this most reckless thing.

So, he slipped the chain around his neck, and spun the knob once. Everything seemed to fly past him like an out of control train, and he closed his eyes against the blinding rapidity. Then, he felt the motion cease. He was in the foyer of St. Mungo's still, but it was quite different. The stairwell before him was clean and clear. The tiles were not cracked. The ceiling hung exactly where it should. It was silent as a tomb.

That worried Remus, having been here before. St. Mungo's always had a night staff at the front desk. Perhaps the Death Eaters had arranged for the shift to come in late. Maybe the person had had to take care of something in one of the wards. Whichever, it seemed in the Death Eater's favor. But then, they weren't expecting Remus to show up.

He took a step towards the stairs. He had time to warn the patients and Healers. They could get these people out. Uttering a soft cry, Remus tumbled to the floor. Someone had struck him in the back with a jinx. His shoulder burned as with fire, but he could still move. Remus turned over onto his back, raising his wand instinctively.

A ring of cloaked and masked men surrounded him. The Death Eaters? Now? They were early. Each had a wand held loosely in hand, the one closest to Remus had it pointed straight for his heart. Remus' eyes were drawn to this point, hovering in the air before him.

"Oh ho!" a familiar high-pitched voice exclaimed. "Lookie what the cat brought!"

Remus saw the Time Turner, so recently around his neck, in the hands of the Death Eater he had just threatened. The coincidence was too great. Remus simply felt confused, but the Death Eaters could not see the surprise in his shrouded face. He had to remind himself, after the initial shock, that this was an hour before. That man could have gone many places in an hour.

A few of the Death Eaters chuckled, seeing the Time Turner. "Nice gift," one said. "Where'd he get it, I wonder?" another broke in. "Thanks" another said.

Remus saw the leader's wand lower a quarter of an inch, and he struck. "_Reducto!_," he cried, sending a great explosion into the middle of the Death Eaters before him. Unfortunately, the blast was close, too close, and Remus was thrown back through the Death Eaters who had come up behind him.

Dust from broken tiles hovered in the air, obscuring the Death Eaters from his view as much as it obscured him from them. Spells began to rain down on him, flying at haphazard anywhere the Death Eaters could think to fire them. Remus blocked the ones he saw coming toward him, ducking under others, but he did not take to the offensive.

Remus knew he was outmatched here. Even having knocked out a few with the blast, and those closest to him by physically knocking them over, they outnumbered him eight to one. His best bet was to get out, as fast as he could. Then it occurred to him. He could Disapparate, right? He hated to abandon the Time Turner, but he couldn't hope to get it back here.

He spun, feeling the pressure of the tunnel of Apparition, but he was struck before he had completely gone. Someone had hit him with a spell, and Remus couldn't tell what. All he knew was that he found himself disoriented and standing at the other end of the hall. He had put fifty feet between himself and the Death Eaters, but they would soon spot him.

Sure enough, cries went out, and spells flew down the hallway towards him. He dove through the front wall, which dissolved into a city street in London. Remus didn't wait, but ran as fast as he could down the street, firing spells back towards where he imagined the front of St. Mungo's should be.

Remus found himself two blocks along before he realized where he was headed. It was close, and he was sure he could make it there, to safety. Still, he didn't like the idea. There was far too little good that could come from it. If he didn't go there, though, where could he go? He was injured, somehow. He didn't feel like he could Apparate if he wanted to. At least not yet. His chest still felt partially compressed from the attempt.

With no other choice, Remus charged on. He didn't look back, but he heard no sound from the Death Eaters. If they still pursued him, they were waiting. He had no idea whether they had stayed at St. Mungo's or not. He was close now.

The flight had tired Remus, and he began to feel his chest burn with that familiar discomfort from hard exercise. He had stopped firing spells almost immediately, but the spells he had cast had had their impact, as well. Just ahead, the place he had begun to associate so strongly with disappointment and pain, where he had once called home, loomed – an isolated house in the city.

Remus tore across the field before the door, crossing the now-melting snow. He could make out lights in the windows. 'I'm almost there,' he thought. It was both with hope and fear that he approached the Potter home. Perhaps James wasn't there. Perhaps he would only find Lily, and they could talk over what had happened. Maybe they could make it right.

A spell flew over his shoulder, igniting the face of the house. The next one sent him tumbling to the ground. Remus realized that he had been followed, and closely, by the Death Eaters. He had led them directly to his friends' home. He had fallen such that he was looking up at the burning facade. Flames licked at the inside of the building, making their way across the floors. It moved much too quickly to be natural. This was cursed fire.

The sight of it seemed to ignite something within Remus, too. He rose to his feet, and turned towards the source of the spells. He had no chance of stopping the fire in the house, it was too great and too far extended. Remus simply hoped that anyone inside had had the chance to escape out the back. Remus wouldn't give the Death Eaters that chance. They had attacked his friends directly, unawares.

Three Death Eaters walked toward him, flowing cloaks with those foul masks. Those masks always gave the impression of smugness to Remus. They concealed and gave the wearer comfort that he/she would never face consequences for terrible things. Not this time.

Remus swung his wand arm in their direction, and unleashed hell upon them. He drew in the power of the fire behind him, and, strengthened somehow – he felt - by the fire gem at his heart, he unleashed a demonic fire at the Death Eaters. A river of swirling fire crossed the distance between them, and before they could react or deflect, the fire swept the first Death Eater aside, setting the cloak aflame and throwing him a few meters. The fire extinguished on impact, but the Death Eater did not move.

The second got his shield up, but too late to protect himself from the force of the impact. He, too, tumbled across the lawn, unburned, but not feeling too well. The last had the chance, or the wits about him, to block the attack and crush the fire Remus had launched at them. This Death Eater cried out, "_Avada Kedavra_!" loudly and with a gruff angry man's voice.

A bolt of green crossed the lawn, but Remus had anticipated and avoided the attack. He returned with a barrage of spells, hexes, jinxes, and elemental attacks. All of these the enemy blocked or diverted. He returned again with the same hatred, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Remus barely avoided this second attack, and he replied with a powerful spell he had seen performed only once. How it came to him then, Remus could never be sure, but he regretted it instantly. "_Sectumsempra_!" he shouted.

The man was tossed, slashed as though by a dozen steel blades across the chest, the arms, the face. With only the sound of the fire behind Remus, he had an erie moment of realization, before he rushed to the side of the man he had attacked. Blood was everywhere. The man was struggling to breathe, and Remus had a moment of panic before he remembered his healing techniques. He pictured wounds healed and well as he waved his wand and murmured the sing-song spell of rapid closure. The wounds closed under his hands, but the damage was extensive.

Remus spoke to the man, "I'm sorry," he said. "You need to just take slow breaths. That's it."

The man said nothing, gasping harshly, but more slowly. Remus pulled off the man's mask, which had been nearly shredded by the spell, and saw an equally cut-up face. He got to work healing these wounds, as well. The work went slowly, and Remus feared he had not acted quickly enough.

'Why?' he thought. 'Why did I have to attack so strongly? He's a Death Eater, a foul man, but a man. He's expected to try to kill me. I should have been better; I should have disabled him, not cut him to shreds.'

Remus' personal berating did little to help the man in front of him. He reached a point, though, where he could do little, but watch and wait. He glanced up to see if the other Death Eaters were moving. Surely, they would try to kill him if they saw him over one of their own. Neither had stirred, however. They remained unconscious.

Turning back to the Death Eater beneath him, Remus realized his hood had fallen back. The Death Eater looked up at him with eyes of surprise. Although the Death Eater was not familiar to him, the man seemed to know Remus by sight. He may have been one of the many masked Death Eaters that had been around Igor at times.

Remus had no words, shocked at his foolishness as much as the man was by Remus' involvement. This could go terribly for his mission. He had failed Dumbledore, and all he had to show for it was a burnt down friends' house, an aborted rescue at St. Mungo's, and a Time Turner lost to another Death Eater. He had failed in every way imaginable.

The man muttered, softly, "Remus? Why?" He coughed, the sounds from his lungs coming more and more ragged. "He trusted you, he fought for you. Why would you turn on us like this?"

Remus looked the man in the eye. "Because," he answered, "a man knows when to wait, and when to act. You are on the wrong side of history. Cruelty and hatred will never prevail over goodness."

"Goodness?" the man coughed with a spurt of blood. "Goodness has done this to me, then?" He could not continue over the violent coughing that followed.

Remus' mind reeled. Who was this man? Who was he to teach Remus a lesson in morality? Perhaps the nearness of death had made him wax philosophical. It was not unheard of. He wasn't sure whether to be angrier at the man for daring to speak so, or because Remus knew that he spoke truth.

Remus had no chance to respond, angrily or not. The man stopped coughing, and was still. He had died. Remus had killed.

Standing up, Remus looked down at the dead face for a moment before covering his head again with his hood. He glanced over at the other two prone men, and back over at the burning building, now entirely gutted. The fire had nearly put itself out. There was hardly anything more to burn. Remus felt at a loss for what to do. He could cut his losses, go home and lick his wounds.

That felt wrong to him. He hated waiting; he still wanted to act. If Remus gave in now, wouldn't all of this be for nothing? If only he had arrived at the right time to help the Order against the Death Eaters at St. Mungo's. He had drawn a few of them away from the battle, but there were so many. Would that he could have warned the Potters away before the Death Eaters destroyed their house. He had no idea if they were there when the attack came. Were they alive?

Remus felt the urge to tear up, but resisted it. This was no time for assuming the worst. If there was still time to be do something, then – suddenly, it clicked. Plenty of time existed. He only had to get the Time Turner back from that Death Eater, and, fortunately enough, he knew exactly where the man with the high pitched voice would be next.

He would never have gone there, never have dared, but he had a chance to save his friends from a terrible fortune he had brought upon them. 'No,' Remus thought. 'It couldn't be.' A thought had occurred to him that seemed by far the most fantastical thing he had ever imagined. There was simply no way that he had done all that.

Remus was startled by the sound of one of the remaining Death Eaters stirring. He didn't have time for this reverie. If he was going to go, it was now or never. Time was running out. Time always seemed to be thin for him. As the nearest Death Eater started to sit up, Remus turned on the spot and Disapparated.

He appeared in an alley fifty feet from where he had appeared earlier. It felt so strange, acting out something he had witnessed before. It was empowering, really. He had done it before, he could do it again. Remus heard a crack. That had to be him from the past; it was certainly a cue to go. He ran.

The Dark Alley loomed before him. Its gaping maw grew wide upon his approach, ready to swallow him whole. To one side, Remus thought he saw himself hiding, but did not stop to take anything in. On a path to the most feared alley in all of London, Remus could not stop. It was his fault, and only he could do something about it. First, though, he needed the Time Turner.

He stepped across the border between life and death. He paused. Now, he was out of sight. He remembered the long delay, and realized that he had no idea where this Death Eater would have been. There were many cramped buildings here. Remus could have to search them all. First, he would need to keep people from seeing him. Pulling out his wand, he performed a Disillusionment charm on himself, feeling that cold ripple down his spine.

He wasn't invisible, but he would be hard enough to detect for someone not expecting to find anyone. Remus proceeded to the first door to his left. He magicked it open, and held still. No one inside had noticed the creaking door. "_Hominum Revelio_," he muttered under his breath in the doorway. Nothing. There was no one inside.

Remus proceeded to the next couple buildings with the same results. Either the Death Eaters were out in force tonight, or they left the outer buildings as a buffer. Remus felt a shiver up his spine, much more creepy than Disillusionment. He froze. Something was very wrong. Looking down, Remus saw it. Someone had set a tripwire. A tripwire? Looking left and right, Remus realized why the first few buildings were empty. Someone had rigged them with explosives. 'Why would wizards need explosives?' Remus wondered.

He stepped gingerly over the wire, and looked around again. No one had noticed him, yet. That had been too close, though. Wizard or not, Remus did not think he could survive an explosion that close at hand. Still, something kept nagging at him. It made no sense. There were much quieter ways of silencing intruders. A wizard or witch could set a magical trip wire that triggers a spell, any spell, at the intruder.

With no time to think about it, Remus proceeded with caution. Someone was in the next building, the noise within made that clear. It sounded either like a raucous party or a fight. 'With Death Eaters,' Remus thought, 'it might be difficult to tell.'

The noise, though, made entry a simple matter. The door slid open, and he found himself in the foyer of a very old apartment building. The manager's desk had long lain in disrepair, and the key hooks behind the glass connected the various threads of a sagging cobweb. Even the spiders had long departed. It sounded, though, as if a dozen or more people were upstairs.

Remus looked up the stairs. No one was in sight, but something small had fallen on a stair about halfway up the flight. Cautiously approaching, Remus found something that could make his search much simpler. He took off the Disillusionment Charm, feeling the trickle of warmth from head to foot. Pulling back his hood a little, he put on the Death Eater mask. He could meet them, talk to them even, and they would be none the wiser. After all, who would be stupid enough to come this deep within the Death Eater stronghold and dress up like a Death Eater to chat with them?

He nearly chuckled at the thought. Restraining himself, Remus finished ascending the stairs. It sounded as though the group was in a room off to the left. The hallway was more recently trodden than the entry, and appeared more worn for the wear. Remus walked carefully, but directly. He didn't want the Death Eaters to think he was attempting to sneak around, but would like to catch them somewhat off guard.

He opened the door, and stepped inside. There were a dozen or so Death Eaters inside, arguing loudly. Remus looked around, questioningly, and said, "I heard raised voices. Is everything alright?" He nearly started at his own voice. It sounded harsh, irritated no doubt by the fires he had been so near that night. Even as he spoke, he could feel a scratching in his throat and a strong need for water.

Everyone looked over at him, then half turned back to the person they were arguing with and continued. A couple gave him a closer look, but they all appeared a little distracted. Remus could see why. There was a Death Eater on the ground, masked, still, and moaning in pain. Two of them were crouched around him, looking helpless.

Remus said, "He's hurt. Does anyone know healing arts?"

No one responded, so Remus took the initiative. He did not know why, this was a Death Eater. With all the insanity of the evening, Remus may well have caused it. Yet, he felt he had to help, however he could. He knelt down, pulled out his wand, and began healing the man. He had a variety of cuts on his arms, and a concussion, it appeared.

Remus thought about it, while he healed the man. School had done very little, in terms of teaching healing arts, and the Death Eaters had not done much to hone their own skills. Remus, however, had practically lived in the hospital wing for a few days a month. He had seen students come and go with a variety of everyday ailments, injuries, and the like. He knew how to take care of people. He didn't have much opportunity to do so, but he certainly could.

Moments later, the Death Eater could sit up, and thanked Remus, "Wish more of us could do that stuff. Healing is not my strong suit."

Remus nodded, preferring to avoid speaking as much as possible. He turned to listen to the argument going on behind him. Two of them were arguing across at two others.

"Seriously," one was saying, "it was just one guy."

"Come off it!" another answered back. "He had to have backup. There were twelve of us there."

"I nearly got him," a third said. "Hit him with a spell as he Disapparated."

"Right you did," the last answered, "and I'm the Dark Lord's cousin."

"I really did," the third responded more angry.

"All I know," said the man Remus had healed in a familiar high-pitched voice, "is that he took us down and got away. Whether he had help or not, that's something."

Another Death Eater entered the room, shouting to everyone, at large, "We followed the attacker from the Ministry. He knocked out Jason and me."

"Tim?" another asked.

The Death Eater just shook his head.

"The hell?" one of the arguing Death Eaters asked. "I thought the Order didn't kill."

"Don't think this is the Order," the newly arrived Death Eater said. "He must be a rogue wizard."

"Or witch!" another broke in, the only female in the room.

"No," said the one Remus had healed. "I heard his voice. It was definitely a man."

"Didn't you say there was an attack at Lucius' manor?" one asked.

"Yeah," another answered. "I heard it was one man, again. He took down four of us without a scratch. No killing, though."

"Must be getting more gutsy," one thought aloud. The rest of the group remained silent.

After a minute, one of the arguing Death Eaters, an authoritative sounding man, spoke. "Look, we can't just sit here. You three," he said, pointing at the other arguers, "go back up the group at St. Mungo's. You two," he added, indicating Remus and the female Death Eater, "ensure he's ready to move again. The rest of you, follow your orders as given. I'll inform the Council."

Everyone nodded, and left. Remus could not believe his luck. A room full of Death Eaters had suddenly reduced to himself, the Death Eater he was here to capture, and one unsuspecting guard. If he waited a minute, the alley would be free, and he could get out with very little scuffle. For the moment, though, he knelt over the sitting man, and pretended to be heavily concerned. It was clear the man was feeling better, but, the sooner he got up, the sooner Remus would have to act.

"You need to stay still a moment," Remus said, keeping his voice soft. "I want to check for any more injuries."

"I'm fine, now," the man said, high voice sounding more confident and strong than before. "I can go."

"There could be hidden injuries," Remus said, forcefully, inventing wildly. "Just a moment. It's better to be sure than have it hurt you at the wrong time."

"No, no," the man said, sounding more annoyed. "I feel fine."

"He looks fine, alright?" the female Death Eater said, at the door, ready to leave. "Just let it go. You've done enough."

Remus sighed, "Alright," he said. "let's go."

Remus waved his wand offhandedly as the man stood up. The man cried out and clutched his side in sudden pain. Remus looked concerned, and helped the man sit back down. Remus went over his side with the wand, uttering a string of soothing hums and coos that resembled a set of animal calls. When he thought enough time had passed, he relented.

"Try to stand now," he urged, delicately.

The Death Eater stood, and stretched his arms and legs for a moment. He said, "Feels good now."

Remus nodded, and the three of them passed into the hallway. As the other two passed down the hallway, Remus struck. "_Stupefy! Stupefy!_" he cried, taking both out in a flash. They collapsed in a heap in the hallway. With another flick, Remus put a lightening spell on the man's body. He would take the Time Turner, but knew that he would need the man. The man had to tell his past self that they would, indeed, be going to St. Mungo's.

Tossing away his Death Eater mask in disgust, Remus hefted the man over his shoulder, and walked carefully down the rickety old stairs. No one was in the lobby. The next few moments passed in a haze, a blur for Remus. It was surreal, rushing along the alley, hoping and, yet, knowing that no one would catch him. He leapt over the trip wire and kept moving. Soon, he was exiting with his prize. A thought occurred to him, and he nearly laughed. Turning, he shouted,"_Repulso!_," sending a bottle from the street tumbling into the trip wire. The rest of the moment was identical to what Remus had experienced before.

He felt strange, through it all, like he was seeing himself in an out-of-body experience. He thought very little, just followed the actions he knew he would have to. When he Disapparated, calling out to himself, "He's all yours," Remus began to doubt his own ability to choose his own direction. True, he himself had done all these things, but he had already seen it done.

There had been complicated elements, parts he had not witnessed before, but how much did that impact the end result? Could he impact the end result? If he simply refused to go back in time, wouldn't he, then, be trapped in the Ministry of Magic and never have done all of these other things? But he did help himself out, so he did escape. But what would make him do that besides the fact that he had done it? Remus stood in front of the burnt out Potter manor, thinking these things.

Would he not go back, though, if there was a chance of setting things right in the end? Remus did not feel altogether sure about anything now. Still, regardless of free will, the other things he had seen himself do were not bad. He may have killed a man before, right here in fact, but the other acts had been protective and helping. If he went back early enough, he could beat the Death Eaters here and save more lives. Then, after he had done the other things he must do: save himself from the Ministry, take back the Time Turner for himself, he could go protect the people at St. Mungo's. That, after all, was what he had set out to do in the first place, wasn't it?

Decided, Remus took the Time Turner out of his pocket, and placed it back around his neck. Fate willing, he would only have to use it this one last time. Remus turned the knob once. Like some disturbing video, Remus watched as the fire grew and seemed to rebuild the house rapidly. In a moment, he stood in front of the house that looked as fine as it ever had.

With a quick step, forgetting his earlier fears about approaching his old friend's house, Remus came to the front door and rapped upon it. A moment passed, and Remus had the fleeting thought that no one, indeed, had been at home. This was shaken when the door began to move. Remus saw Sirius there, but was on the ground before he knew what was happening.

Sirius had struck him with a spell the moment he had seen him. Remus lay, dazed, on the hard ground. It took him a moment to realize the hood was hardly a welcome sight to Order Members in these times. Sirius kept his wand trained on Remus, and Remus put his hands up in surrender. "Sirius," he coughed, voice harsh as it had been, "it's me, Remus."

"Why should I believe that?" Sirius asked, suspiciously.

"Let me lower my hood," Remus answered.

"Not good enough," Sirius said, shortly. "Anyone could have taken some Polyjuice Potion."

"Fair enough," Remus answered, thinking. "I am Remus Lupin, werewolf, son of Gregorio and Stephania Lupin. Your favorite color is brown. You and James invented a mirror to talk to each other in class. You, James, and Peter became Animagi at school. Yours is a dog, James' is a stag, and Peter's is a rat. Good enough?"

Sirius thought for a moment. "Alright," he answered, "lower your hood, first."

Remus slowly lowered his hood, and looked solemnly back at his friend. Sirius seemed to study his face for a moment before offering his hand, saying, "You really shouldn't knock on a door with a hood covering your face, and you look like crap, mate."

Smiling, Remus took his friend's hand and stood. There was an awkward moment. Remus wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject. It would have been easier with Lily. She would see through his pretenses, anyway. It also struck him how abruptly he had departed, not only from James, but from all of them.

Sirius asked the hanging question, "Why did you come here?"

Remus paused, trying to think of how to explain it. Sirius reiterated, "You know James doesn't want to see you. After your fight, it's probably not the best thing to just show up."

"I'm still a little mad at him, as well," Remus explained, "but this isn't about us. It's about the Death Eaters."

"What about them?" Sirius asked.

"They're coming here," Remus said, flatly, "and they're going to destroy the house."

"How many?" Sirius asked.

"Three that I know of," Remus answered truthfully.

"Is that all?" Sirius scoffed. "Between James, Lily, and me that's no threat. Thanks for the warning. When are they coming?"

Remus realized his problem. Maybe they could have stopped the three Death Eaters, if Remus could take them down, surely three Order members, suitably prepared, could do the same. James was an Auror, after all. Then, why hadn't they done it? The house was destroyed, and the Death Eaters had faced off with Remus alone. Where were Sirius, James, and Lily, then? On top of that, how could he tell Sirius with a certainty that they had to leave? If he did, he would have to explain everything that had happened that night, beginning with the theft of a Time Turner. Remus had neither that kind of time nor the inclination to admit to all of it.

"Soon," Remus said. "I...I think you three need to leave, though."

Sirius gave Remus a look. "I know you've been out of it for a while," he said, "but the rest of us are easily able to handle a few Death Eaters. It's actually quite convenient. They never go anywhere in small numbers that we can track. Having this kind of group arriving is almost gift-wrapping them."

"You don't understand!" Remus said, growing frustrated. "They will succeed in burning down the house. The spell they use just eats right through it. You can't stop it."

"Then, we'll take them out before they get a chance," Sirius stated matter-of-factly. "You're beginning to concern me, though, mate. You sound really insistent on this small thing."

"I...I just don't want any of you to get hurt," Remus said. He could see the fire, feel the lick of flames, smell the burnt wood. In his mind, Remus saw the fire re-enact itself, swiftly and violently. This was inevitability. A part of him fought the idea. Maybe they could change what was to happen? 'But if it changed,' another thought said, 'would I know to come back and warn them of the coming Death Eaters? Would I have gotten the Time Turner back?'

Sirius laughed. "We'll be fine, count on that. Now, go on back before James sees us. He'll be angrier to see you than the Death Eaters. He can beat them up without remorse, at least."

Remus glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. He didn't know why, but he had to get them out, now. The course of events was his master. Things would be worse if he didn't get them out. He had no choice but to believe that. Remus did the only thing he could. He Stunned Sirius.

Sirius never heard or saw it coming. His eyes were frozen in a horrible shock of betrayal as Remus took hold of him. Concentrating, Remus Disapparated with Sirius and laid him across a park bench a few meters from where Remus had later picked up his cloak. It was there, even now, tossed across the trash can lip. To help the illusion, Remus spread the day's paper over the prone form. He would lift the spell in fifteen minutes, that would have given him time to take out the Death Eaters and flee the scene.

Apparating back upon the Potter porch, Remus entered. One down, two to go. Sirius had been nice enough to tell him how many people were home. That was a blessing in itself. If they wouldn't take him seriously, he would just have to ensure they left, for their own good. Crossing the hallways as quietly as possible, Remus listened for any sound. He recovered his face with the hood. The anger of James upon seeing Remus might be enough to help him defeat Remus before he could stun him. Besides, he couldn't stand the thought of seeing more horrified stares of betrayal.

Lily appeared next. She walked into the hallway ahead of him, talking over her shoulder. She heard nothing and saw nothing. James did notice something. When Lily hit the wooden floor, it made a loud thump. Remus didn't have time to worry about the child, James came around the corner with wand blazing.

James was cold and calculating in his attacks, a trained and powerful Auror. Remus immediately regretted running into Lily first. He blocked the first few spells without trouble, and returned with a few simple jinxes and hexes, which James parried. Remus unleashed a strong wind spell, to topple James, but James conjured a giant shield and blocked it.

The hallway was long, ending in the kitchen behind James and the foyer behind Remus. Sighting the sink along the back wall, Remus made a quick tug with his wand, even as he blocked James' latest volley. The sink exploded with a flowing tube of water that pounded James in the back, knocking him off balance.

It was all Remus needed. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted triumphantly. With both of the Potters down, he only needed to take them away to protect them. He ran to the pair, and took Lily's soft hand and James' drenched one, and spun away from the doomed home. Remus was glad that it was a warm night. He felt bad having drenched James, only to leave him on a park bench, but it was what he had to do.

The two of them placed further down the line from Sirius, he Disapparated again. There wasn't much time left. If he wanted to help the people at St. Mungo's, his next two acts had to be done quickly. He arrived at the Ministry of Magic. Running through the Entrance Hall, Remus no longer thought of how strange the situation was. This was as it had to be. He was the hand of Fate, tonight. He would follow its whim.

He followed his trail down to the Department of Mysteries. Remus crossed back through the room with the arch, this time completely ignoring the arch, and heading deliberately for the door. It was slightly ajar. Without a rustle, Remus passed through the door, and saw himself opening the drawer. He was becoming accustomed to watching himself.

With a quick glance to the sides, Remus could pick out the thread of the Forge line. Single dots of that fiery glow marked where the line met the walls. It would be difficult to pick out unless one knew what it looked like. He stepped forward to the edge of where the line would cross the floor and waited. Realizing what time it was, Remus nonverbally released his frozen friends from their spells. It was silent, but effective. He would have to apologize later. It would have to wait.

Remus waited while his other self picked out a Turner. He began to appreciate how run down he really appeared. This war had taken a heavy toll on the world; he seemed to embody it. Before Remus was a man worn down by time and hardship. He was thin and wan, undernourished and held upright by sheer will alone. If it hadn't been himself that Remus was seeing, he would have felt pride in seeing the strength and determination. As it was, he was torn between pity and disgust.

The earlier self turned around, shock flooding his face. Remus continued to watch and wait. Neither spoke for a moment. Remus was brought back to the present by the earlier Remus asking a question that sounded very familiar. "Who are you?" the voice demanded, pointing his wand at Remus.

A good question, indeed. Remus would have to ponder that later. For now, he answered, "It is of no consequence. You need a hand, it seems. I would appreciate if you would not aim your wand at me when I have come to set you free."

"You have come to -" the previous Remus began, looking more bewildered by the moment.

"There is little time," Remus answered. "Take my arm and leave. They will find you soon."

He stuck his arm through the barrier and held it still. His other arm remained calmly at his side. There was no reason to attempt to alarm himself. After all the things he had gone through, these last few seemed simple. Remus the younger took Remus' hand and he pulled himself across the line.

"Well," the earlier Remus said, "thanks. I… Is there something you want in repayment?"

"No," Remus said, simply. "You seem to be doing more than your share of work against your debts."

With that, Remus took off. It hadn't occurred to him how he had escaped seeing himself. Now, reality caught up with the moment, and he felt panic seize him. There was no way he could clear the arch room in time! 'Maybe,' he thought as he opened the door, 'I don't need to.'

In the room beyond, he dove off to the left of the door, simultaneously casting a Disillusionment spell on himself, and became incredibly still. Remus was decent at Disillusionment spells, but a direct look in his direction would reveal his presence. Earlier Remus, however, burst into the room, and tore off toward the entrance, just as Remus had done before.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus followed back across the arch room, taking his time back to the lifts. Silence followed him and preceded him. The Ministry was a tomb again. Still, he had to keep moving, there was still the meeting at the manor. Then, then he would be free to take care of things. 'Is there something I have forgotten?' he thought, as the lift brought him back up to level.

Ding! The lift door opened, and Remus found himself face to face with a Ministry watchman. That is to say, Remus saw the man's face. The man saw nothing. In the dark recesses of the lift, the Disillusionment charm remained quite effective. Still, the guard seemed to realize that the lifts did not move of their own accord. At least, not anymore. Prior to The Lift Act of 1959, they had moved where they pleased, often against the wishes of the riders.

Remus didn't hesitate, he was past that. Silently, he Stunned the guard, caught him, and dragged him quietly into the lift. As he exited, he touched the button for the Department of Magical Games floor. If there was another guard, it would take him or her a moment or two to realize there was a problem. A few minutes to figure out where the other guard had gone. By then, Remus would be kilometers away.

Crossing the foyer, Remus approached the telephone booth. Looking over his shoulder, he saw no sign of any other guards. Raising his Disillusioned wand arm, he muttered, "_Confundis_."

A minute later, Remus was running, visible, across the lawn of the manor. One more hurdle and he could return to his objective. It occurred to him, as he approached the window he had to enter, that he had been awake much longer than usual. Time Travel had distorted his sense of time. His body felt like it was nearly four in the morning. The adrenaline, however, kept him on edge. He needed it, now, especially.

Flicking his wand, he opened the window and hopped inside. The room was well furnished, like the one Remus had seen earlier, but seemed unused. In a manor of this size, many rooms probably found little use. 'What a waste,' he thought, turning in time to dive aside. A house-elf had been dusting in the corner. At the sight of an intruder, it had struck at him with its magic. Its spell dissipated in the air, not harming the furniture or causing any sound.

Remus' spell made a little bit more, crumpling the house-elf where it stood. He had to hurry, someone could have heard that. Peeking through a crack in the large door, Remus saw that this was a back hallway, not leading into any of the normally inhabited areas. If he moved quickly, he could avoid detection for the last few seconds he needed.

Wand out, he stepped into the hallway, turned left and entered the next doorway on his side of the hallway, wand already flying. It was easy. The Death Eaters were at ease, and, from the smell in the air, largely intoxicated. They went down in an instant, just as Remus had remembered. He took the Turner in hand, and hopped out of the window.

This part he knew. "Come," he said. "They will be found soon." Remus raced out of the yard and a few blocks away before pausing. It troubled him that so much wisdom seemed to come out of hearing himself say to himself what he had heard himself say to himself. Still, it was true, all of it. He had experienced it. Truthfully, he had always known this. He just needed a prod to move. He had needed the hand of fate, himself.

"There will be a clash between the Order and the Death Eaters this night," he said, "They will fight at St. Mungo's in one hour's time." He added, "The Order will need your help as never before."

Predictably, earlier-Remus asked, "How do you know this?"

"Never mind that," Remus said. "The Death Eaters have targeted an injured member of the Order, and the Order will arrive to protect him. You may need this. Take it back." He handed himself the Turner, adding, "Be more careful to whom you entrust it."

"But…I mustn't go," earlier-Remus began. "I have to maintain my cover."

Remus could hardly stand to see himself that cowardly. It was not so long ago that he had clung to that very excuse, right now, in fact. Still, he had to tell himself what he had to hear. In the end, for better or for worse, Remus would go from this scared child into the confident, dangerous figure. Only time would tell if that was for the best.

Remus remembered the line by heart, one of the few things he knew in his soul. "There is a time to wait and a time to fight," he told earlier-Remus. "A man knows when to do each."

His heart glowing with the truth of the statement, Remus, the man, spun into the dark tunnel, free from his role as the hand of fate. Now, at last, he returned into the completely uncertain way of the present. He may live, he may die, and the very fact that he did not know comforted Remus. The fight at St. Mungo's was about to begin. It really was time to fight.


	23. Chapter 23: The Battle of St Mungo's

Lily jerked, sending a newspaper rolling off of her and onto the ground. She looked around in surprise, seeing the open sky, the benches around her, and trees. Sitting up, she remained confused, uncertain of what she was seeing. The last thing she could remember was walking down the hallway of her home. She had been talking to James, and now...where was she?

"Hello?" she asked the night air.

"Lily?" a familiar voice asked from behind her.

"Sirius?" she asked, turning. Her view was obscured by the trunk of a large tree.

"Yeah," he said, adding, "Where are we?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," James said from in front of her. He had sat up, and Lily could see part of his sleeve around the trunk of another tree.

"What happened, James?" Lily asked. "I can't remember anything."

"I do," both James and Sirius said at once, anger evident in their voices.

Lily stood up and stepped away from the bench, so that her companions could see her. "What happened?"

"I fought a man, Lily," James said, walking over. "He was cloaked and hooded, and he stunned us."

"Remus fought you?" Sirius asked, meeting them.

"What about Remus?" James asked, eyes narrowing sharply. Lily turned toward Sirius, too, curious.

"He appeared at the door, James," Sirius said. "I was about to curse him into the ground, the way he was dressed."

"But why -" Lily started.

"He kept going on about Death Eaters coming, and a fire," Sirius said. "He said we had to leave, but I said we could handle it, you know? There were only going to be three of them, according to Remus. How he knew, lord only knows."

"Would have been the first time his position had helped anyone," James said, not bothering to cover his anger. "What did he do?"

"I don't know," Sirius said. "I suppose he stunned me and brought me here. We were in the middle of talking and that's the last I remember. He was very insistent, I remember that much. He really felt we were in danger."

"Well," James said, "he sure has a funny way of showing it. He stunned Lily without giving us a chance to talk."

"What happened to you, then?" Lily asked her husband.

"I fought him, I suppose," James said. He looked confused and disturbed.

"Unless another cloaked person came after him," Lily suggested.

"Another one that was nice enough not to hurt us, but leave us on park benches?" Sirius asked.

"But why did he do it?" Lily asked.

"I don't know," James said, "but I intend to find out."

Sirius spoke up, "You don't suppose he was right about the house, the Death Eaters, do you?"

"We need to go back to find out," James said. "Follow me," he added, "but be careful. It could be a trap."

The three of them Disapparated, and appeared across the street from the house. It was gone, burned to the ground. Lily was overwhelmed. Remus had been right, but was it all necessary? Why had he done it?

"James," Sirius said, "We don't know what he was thinking, but – surely – if he wanted to betray us, he would have left us in there stunned and helpless."

"Maybe," James said. "I just don't know what to think, Sirius."

"We should tell the Order," Lily said.

As if on call, Dumbledore appeared before them. "Come," he said, "St. Mungo's is under attack. A dozen or more Death Eaters have been spotted breaking in."

"Albus," Lily said, "Our house was..."

"I know, Lily," Dumbledore said, his voice softening for the first time in months of meetings. "We will deal with that later. I'm sorry. The lives of many people depend on our defense of the hospital. Please, James, Sirius, you too. Please come."

Lily looked at the others before turning back to Dumbledore and nodding. Dumbledore Disapparated, and the three Order members followed him. They appeared in the foyer of St. Mungo's

"There was a fight here," James said. "I see score marks on the walls."

Dumbledore said, "This fight was almost an hour ago. The magic around it is old. The current fight is upstairs."

With that, he proceeded up the stairs. The others followed, wands at the ready. Noises began to emanate from a floor above, but the nature of the stairwell prevented them from hearing precisely which floor they came from. Dumbledore did not seem to mind this problem, heading directly for the third floor and approaching the door to the first ward with confidence.

His wand flew, opening the door and sending several spells into the fray even before he had seen the combatants. The spells hit their marks, crumpling two Death Eaters before the lot noticed there were guests. As one, the pack turned towards the entrants. Lily was terrified. The ward was large, a general spell-healing ward for the public. Commonly, dozens of Wizards and Witches would find their way to this ward daily.

Fifty Death Eaters filled the space, surrounding four Order member that were still standing. Even with the presence of Dumbledore, it was overwhelming. Half of the Death Eaters turned back to the trapped and beaten Order members, the others turned on Lily, James, Sirius, and Dumbledore. Lily felt her wand move as if of its own volition. She only struggled to move out of the way of the spells flying at them.

A few spells grazed her, and Lily began to work more defensively. She had her child to protect, as important as taking out the Death Eaters was, her first duty lay there. Her full effort became the protection of herself and her friends. They saw this, and turned their efforts more fully into attacking.

Unfortunately, the Death Eaters had adapted a similar tactic. Half defended while half attacked. It became increasingly more difficult to hit anything, much less defend the against the onslaught. Dumbledore had an uncanny ability to pick out the weak defensive points, but those quickly disappeared.

The Order faced a tight-knit group of effective spell-casters. Only the immense strengths of these four Order members had kept them upright, so far. The surrounded Order members across the room had succumbed to the barrage, and were out of the fight. It now stood at four against forty. It was difficult to concentrate on any one Death Eater, especially as Lily worked reflexively, reacting to spells from all. Still, she had the sense that a few of the stronger Death Eaters were there, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not.

That was a certainty. He tended to work in the shadows or alone. This battle was too open, too forward for him. 'They sent plenty of Death Eaters, though,' thought Lily. 'What did they expect, the full might of the Order?'

Sirius fell, struck by a spell Lily could not reach. He sprouted boils across his face and, after a series of other spells struck him, he fell unconscious and bled there. With less to defend, Lily blocked more spells, yet she was upset at her failure. One less attacker, and they had not broken through the defense in a few minutes. Dumbledore helped their situation, though. He struck his wand at the floor between them, and it rippled like a wave towards the Death Eaters. The toughest rode it out, and continued attacking or defending. A few panicked, running over themselves. These were knocked out.

James laughed at this new attack, enjoying the fight as he always did. He waved at the ceiling, and a few of the tiles tumbled down upon the Death Eaters. Unfortunately, this gave the Death Eaters an easily repeatable attack, which immediately followed. Lily didn't have time to deflect the tile that fell on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

James grew incensed. He launched himself into a fury of offensive spells of increasing strength, leaving Dumbledore to defend. Lily noticed that the Death Eaters hadn't hit her, despite their many attempts. Evidently, Dumbledore was an effective defender. Even Sirius' body took no more accidental damage.

Lily felt weak, crushed under the heavy tile. She could not move it off of her shoulders and left side. Her right arm could not find the leverage to lift anything. At once, however, the weight was removed, and she was free. Turning over, Lily could see a new figure leaping over her from the side, taking a place by Dumbledore and James. This man was firing spells like a madman. The defensive front of the Death Eaters staggered under the new assault. Lily stood and began to attack, as well.

Although greatly outnumbered, the Order suddenly had an advantage and momentum. The new member was hooded, but working evidently for the Order. The Death Eaters stood firm, testing the new fighter for weaknesses. Even so, the Order was holding up well. Dumbledore had them well defended, and the others pressed for advantages.

Another Death Eater entered from the far end of the wing. Pausing to take in the scene, he laughed, a cold, dark laugh that chilled Lily through. A few of the Death Eaters turned to observe the new entrant. He ignored them, pulling out his wand, and sending a spell over their heads that Lily could feel as it flew through the air. It was both hot and electrified at once.

The spell struck Dumbledore's defenses. Lily knew, it was a testament to the strength and skill of the Headmaster that the defense did not collapse. However, the force of the blow shook the room, lifting Lily off her feet. Once more, she found herself amid the rubble on the floor, pain blossoming along her right side.

A howl, angry and inhuman, rose over the sound of grunts and deflecting spells. Twisting about, Lily could see the new defender looking her direction. She could not make out a face in the darkness of the hood, but she felt something familiar about him. He turned back, and paused a moment, facing the horde of Death Eaters, some of whom were knocked off their feet as Lily had been. To the left, Dumbledore kept the defenses strong and James continued his barrage as though nothing had happened.

The defender pointed his wand, and seemed to be muttering some incantation that Lily could not understand. The air grew hot, and Lily could see a visible mirage of heat forming all around the cloak. The wand in his hand shook in violent waves, and a pinpoint of light grew at the wand's end. Everything seemed to freeze.

The Death Eaters and James alike ceased their attacks. Lily heard, as though from far off, Dumbledore cry out, "Don't!" The rest of his words were lost in the throb of sound now resonating from the wand. A necklace around the defender's neck – one that Lily had not noticed before - began to throb with a deep fiery light. The wand fire had grown to the size of a coconut when Lily saw someone running past her as fast as he could.

This man was large, but built muscularly, and he moved swiftly for his size. Before the defender had acted, the man stood between the now football sized ball of flames and the Death Eaters. The defender started, but held firm. Lily was sure he could not move or the fire would rage uncontrolled. Still, the fire grew in size.

The man stood, unflinching, before the heat that had begun to overwhelm Lily. His eyes seemed to blaze in the reflected light of the fire; the pair remained wide open and concentrated on the hooded man. Without a word, he stuck out his hand and grabbed the ball of fire, yet he did not cry out, did not burn.

Lily could not believe her eyes. The hand holding the fire had taken it from the defender, and was absorbing the fire. Indeed, it began to shrink rapidly. The heated glow in the air began to fade, and the air cleared. Lily could see most of the remaining Death Eaters had Disapparated from the ward. She could not blame them. The fire the defender had begun to cast would have taken out half the floor, and maybe the one above and below, as well.

Soon, only Dumbledore, James, the defender, and the man stood alone in the room. Sirius and Lily were on the ground. It was a moment before Lily realized she could still move, and she rose shakily to her feet. James was catching his breath, Dumbledore knelt over Sirius to revive and heal him. The two men still stood face to face. The hooded defender still had his wand pointed at no one.

Lily walked slowly over to them. She felt torn. The defender had saved them from the onslaught of the Death Eaters, but had almost destroyed them all. The arrival of the unfamiliar man was just as confusing. How did all of these people know about the attack? The Order had only just learned about it in time to put up a shallow defense.

The defender spoke, voice harsh and unrecognizable, "Fleinfold? How did you come here?"

"Oh, Remus, m'boy," Fleinfold said, "I go where I'm needed, of course."

"Remus?" Lily cried, hearing a name she had not expected twice in this evening. This made it all the more difficult to consider. She knew Remus, she thought she did, at least. His actions tonight, however, were confusing at best.

Some of this must have been reflected in her voice, for Remus turned his head, lowering both his wand and hood. His face looked pained, tired, and apologetic. "Yes," he said simply.

James rounded on him, before anyone else could speak. "You...you!" he cried, blinded with anger, it took him a moment to express a full thought. "Our house! You attacked us! I demand to know -"

"Why," Dumbledore finished in that maddeningly calm way of his. "Yes, I think we would all like to know what is going on."

Remus hesitated. Lily could tell he was struggling with something, uncertain of how he should proceed. Lily prompted, "How did you know our house was going to be burned?"

"I...I saw it happen," he answered. "They chased me. All my fault. It was the closest place I could think of to escape them and they followed. Then, they destroyed it. It was so fast, there was no way to stop it. I had to make sure you weren't in there for it. The house was ashes in a minute."

"You saw it?" Sirius asked, weakly. "How is that possible?"

"You had one of those Time Turners the Death Eaters asked you to steal, I take it?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus nodded. James' glare intensified again. "You gave them a Time Turner?" he asked, voice dangerous.

Remus frowned, but nodded. "But," he said, "I took it back," He pulled the golden chain out from around his neck meekly. It hung like a shining treasure in the air before them. All eyes fell upon it as one. It was a very rare and powerful magical object, after all.

"So," Lily said, "You used the Turner to come back and warn us?"

"Yes," he said, "and to properly help here. The first time, I was ambushed by Death Eaters and barely made my way to your house, as I said."

"But, the fire spell?" James asked, looking for something to hate Remus for.

"I will field that one, my friend," Fleinfold answered. "I enhanced the gem around Remus' neck with a touch of my eternal fire. The bearer's fire spells are extraordinarily strong."

"And you are?" James asked dismissively.

"He," Dumbledore said, "is Fleinfold Hart, a master in the arts of fire, and an old friend of mine. Well met, friend."

"Well met, indeed," Fleinfold said, smiling. "I should have known old Albus would find his way into the middle of a fray like this one."

Dumbledore smiled and the two shook hands familiarly. Lily frowned to herself. It was a rather confusing evening. It seemed an odd coincidence that everything would come together this way. Only a fire master could have absorbed that uncontrolled fire spell, and one just appeared. She did not know what to think.

Remus broke the moment of silence by collapsing to the floor. Lily cried out, and ran to his side. He had fallen asleep standing up, a deep enough sleep that landing hard on the floor hadn't woken him up. Everyone crowded around, but were appeased by his sudden and loud snore. Sirius laughed. James had room for a light smirk.

His collapse, however, seemed to awaken everyone to the scene around them. There were injured and unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. Several of the escaping Death Eaters had grabbed a fallen one on the way out, but over a dozen remained where they had fallen. The defenders revived their fellow Order members first. A few had spell damage that required Healer attention. Fortunately, they did not have far to travel.

Dumbledore and James were discussing whether to revive the Death Eaters before or after the Ministry officials arrived when Barty Crouch and an army of Department of Magical Law Enforcement wizards and witches swamped the ward. A few moments of disorganized chaos, later, and all the Death Eaters had magical cuffs on their hands, and wands pocketed by the squad.

Barty himself, as his team worked, approached Dumbledore and Fleinfold, the clear leaders of the defense. They whispered in the corner, but Lily could hear nothing of it over the sounds of the Ministry workers. She remained beside James and Sirius, watching the cleanup. Their noise was such, however, that Remus woke up with a start, and looked around. Looking the wrong way, he caught the eye of Barty.

"Remus Lupin!" he cried, pointing a finger in Remus' direction. Two Ministry squad-members immediately appeared on Remus' sides, lifting him by his under-arms.

Dumbledore protested loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Barty," he said, "I have spoken to you on this matter. Remus is not a Death Eater. He -"

"He is wanted for questioning by the Ministry and has resisted arrest on several occasions, Dumbledore," Barty said, coldly. "He is coming with me."

Lily pulled out her wand, but James put a hand over hers. He whispered in her ear, "No. You can't take them all. I'm sure Dumbledore can help him."

Lily prepared to retort, but James just shook his head. Sirius glared over at the Department Head. Neither Dumbledore nor Barty saw any of this. They stood face to face, anger growing between them.

"Remus is not a Death Eater," Dumbledore said. "I will put my word of honor on that."

"Sir!" a squad member cried out over the other conversations. "Lupin has the missing Time Turner!"

The room grew unnaturally quiet. The squad member removed the Turner from around Remus' neck, and brought it to Barty for inspection. Barty looked at the Turner for a moment, then his face broke into a malicious smile.

"If he is not a Death Eater, Dumbledore," he said, "he is at least a thief."

"Take him away," Barty said to the squad. To Dumbledore he added, "If you still wish to defend him, you will have a chance at his trial."

The squad, with Barty trailing, left the ward. Only the Order Members, a few Healers who had slipped in to tend to the wounded, and Fleinfold were left. Lily stifled a cry into James' shoulder. She could not see what anyone was doing for a moment. When she turned back, no one had moved. The shock of the sudden arrest of Lupin weighed on everyone.

Lily wasn't sure what to think of it. Remus had changed, clearly. He had attacked them, nearly destroyed them all, to do what he felt was right. Yet, this wasn't enough to make her think less of him. He was still Remus. He was still the boy who had tackled the fire in the common room head on. He still fought for good. Remus had things he needed to answer for, perhaps, but prison?

Just picturing Remus under the power of the Dementors, reliving the worst bits of his life, gave Lily a jolt of sadness. He had faced so much, had experienced so much that was terrible. Lily had been near Dementors twice in her life. The memories were vivid and terrible, and Lily's life had been easy next to Remus'. It was a terrible thing to do to anyone.

Dumbledore had not moved since Barty stormed out. He had a deep, thoughtful look on his face. Fleinfold was watching him, knowingly. Sirius, James, and Lily stood silent, waiting. Everyone was waiting on Dumbledore. He would set things right. Dumbledore could always set things right.

At last, Dumbledore looked around at all of them. Seeing the Healers at work, he beckoned them all out into the hall. The door to the ward was hanging off its hinges, but the hallway still allowed for some amount of privacy.

"Remus' arrest could not have come at a worse time," Dumbledore began. "The trend Remus has been reporting of his assignments has been arching towards something difficult and powerful. We may, however, use that to our advantage. We need him to remain – in the eyes of the Death Eaters – still allied with them. A stint in prison may endear him to them still more. I will speak with a few contacts at the Ministry to get the report out that he was taken in a raid."

"Fleinfold," he added, addressing his friend, "if you are willing, please come back to my office and we will chat about a few things."

"You three," Dumbledore said, turning towards Lily, James, and Sirius. "The best way we can help Remus now is to not help him. Theft of a Time Turner is a matter of little consequence in light of all that is going on. The Ministry will likely release him soon to see if he can lead them to the Death Eaters."

"You mean," Lily asked, "We won't try to get him out? He'll be going to Azkaban! We can't just leave him to face...that, can we?"

Dumbledore looked Lily in the eyes. "I'm afraid we have to, my dear," he said. "Remus is stronger than you think. I wouldn't have chosen this mission for him if he wasn't."

James cleared his throat. "And," he reminded, "our home?"

Dumbledore looked over at him, complacently. "That, at least, is a simple matter," he answered. "I have a family home in Godric's Hollow, furnished, that you can use. No one has used it in years, but it should be comfortable."

Lily steeled herself. The thought of their home and everything they had had gone in a moment was difficult. They had lost a friend and a home. She tried not to think about the fact that James did not sound particularly concerned about Remus.

"Shall I inform the Order?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, "that would be best. Tell them that the attack on Minerva was foiled, they never reached the top floor where she was being treated. Let them know the Order had a few casualties, but they will be stitched up shortly. Do not mention Remus."

"Understood," Sirius answered, quietly. He turned and descended the stairs.

Dumbledore handed James a slip of paper. "That is the cottage address. I will contact you tomorrow for further orders. For now, rest."

James nodded, and he took Lily's hand as they descended the stairs. Lily felt lightheaded. She was glad James was there, she feared she might otherwise fall. After the fight, Lily wanted sleep desperately, but she could not forget that another friend of hers was not going to have a restful night.

The last stairwell downward was broken and burnt. Someone had seared it with a tremendous spell. The second floor was warped and sagged beneath where it should have stood. In their struggle on the floor above, Lily had not seen the fighting that happened below.

As they turned in place, James leading, Lily felt sleep coming on quickly. She could not help Remus, not tonight, maybe never again. Her body wouldn't allow it tonight, and Dumbledore had said to stay away. With all her might, Lily wished she could disobey this one order. Then, they were gone, gone to find their new home.


	24. Chapter 24: The Offer

'People can be horribly creative,' Remus thought.

It was one of the few thoughts that escaped the confines of his deepest, most beastly places. Remus had assumed he would be handed over to the Dementors – an idea he had dreaded – after his capture by Crouch. Only facing the despair of the Dementors would have been preferable, he decided early. Although there always seemed to be a Dementor or two on hand, sapping his strength and will to fight, making him remember only the most terrible things that had happened to him, that was only part of Crouch's selected pain.

A steady stream of interrogators came and went, demanding answers and only leaving to be relieved by a fresh interrogator. The Cruciatus Curse had been used by no less than two of them. 'Although,' thought Remus afterwards, 'it may have been the same one twice.' Time and faces blurred, both from physical pain and exhaustion.

Despite its lack of success in so many things, the Ministry had skill with creating pain. One young witch had delighted in his pain as he attempted to write an appeal form to the Wizengamot with a quill that etched the words into the skin of his arms. Her face stuck out. He would remember her. The room, itself, was maddening to stay in. The walls, ceiling, and floor were completely composed of mirrored surfaces. Remus saw himself, the interrogator, and the Dementor or two repeated infinitely from every direction. There was no respite from the image. Even with eyes closed, he could still feel them watching him.

Each of the sufferings, in and of itself, was minor, compared to the overall effect. Broken bones heal, burns heal, but the unending onslaught did not allow his mind to heal. All the while, as they gashed him, immersed him in foul liquids, and magically beat him, he was subject to verbal attacks. Remus had been called terrible things, of course. He was used to that. It was the least troubling part of his trials. Even though it seemed to have little effect, they kept it up.

He never told them anything. Remus had never known such strength in himself. It seemed the more they pushed, the less he was likely to reveal. Remus dove with his consciousness further into the depths of his mind and waited, observing as a curious spectator the things done to him. The interrogators' frustrations never showed, as days turned into weeks. He was never sure how they kept him awake constantly, but it made him anticipate the sweet oblivion of his monthly transformation. As a werewolf, his mind would be closed off and he would rest. The irony was not lost to him.

Even this, however, was to be denied him. A man in a thin robe of palest blue entered one day. He seemed more jittery than the others, as though here against his will. Unlike the others, he avoided looking at the Dementors completely, and kept turning towards the door, prepared to leave. This sudden change, especially the lack of physical and verbal abuse immediately, caught Remus' attention.

"Hello," the man said, looking at the floor. "My name is Professor Damocles," he continued after a pause, "you may have heard of me."

Remus didn't answer. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember from where.

"I have done research in the past decade on the werewolf transformation problem," he continued, explaining as one would to a class full of students.

Remus looked up at the man, inquisitively, almost pleadingly.

Damocles shook his head. "It isn't curable," he said, "at least not yet. However, a colleague of mine has developed an experimental potion that – so far – has kept the werewolf conscious and in control during the transformation. The Ministry officials have requested we run a test on a domesticated werewolf. Most of our patients are in the wild."

The researcher seemed a little uncertain if he considered Remus domesticated, but said nothing. Silence fell, and – his surprise gone – Remus realized why he was being granted this "honor." It was just another step, another chink at his mental armor. He had never experienced his transformation, not the result, at least. Here, he would see it all, repeated a thousand times at once before his eyes.

As tired, as pained, as hateful as he felt at that moment, Remus couldn't help himself. "You know why, right?" he asked, voice sounding more guttural than it ever had.

"Why?" Damocles asked. "It's for the cure. We're looking for the cure."

"No," Remus cut across. "Why me, why now?"

"Uh," Damocles answered. "They said you were here under observation for theft."

"Haha!" Remus laughed, sounding hardly human. It felt good to laugh, though. "That's just a pretense. All of this," he said, gesturing with his head around the room, "is for torture. Seeing my transformation and experiencing it, they think, will make me crack."

"I...I don't know anything about that," Damocles said hurriedly, looking around at the door again. "I'm just supposed to give you this potion. You need it for two more days before the transformation."

Remus just glared across at him. Of course, the researcher didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to think of his work as being wrong, being used to destroy. It was so much easier to only see the positive results of any one thing. It reminded Remus that his friends – if they were still that – had not contacted him or secured his release. This made him sad again.

It must have shown on his face, as Damocles looked at him with a hint of concern on his face. It disappeared a moment later, replaced with clinical professionalism. Pulling out a flask of a bubbling, frothing potion, he unstoppered it, and fed it to Remus. Remus gasped. The potion sizzled on the way down, but wasn't as unpleasant as some of the other potions he had had.

Putting away the empty flask, Damocles looked concerned again, as a Healer did for a patient. "Take care, Mr. Lupin. I will return tomorrow for your next dose."

Remus merely nodded, mind melting back into oblivion. The next round would begin in a mere moment, he knew that. He looked back, hours later, and realized that he had enjoyed the brief reprieve. No shouting, no pain, and a look of true concern had characterized his meeting with Damocles. He did remember, while hiding from the pain, that this must be the young Damocles the Healer had spoken of some years ago. She had sounded rather impressed with his work. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'after this is over, I will look him up and see if I can help him in some way.'

Regardless of the horrible way the Ministry had chosen to use it today, Remus realized the intense relief it would be to have control during a transformation. On several occasions, he would have been grateful to have such an assurance. It was exciting news for a field that hardly ever had any. Most werewolf development centered on ways to contain and isolate them when they were dangerous. It pained Remus now, but, he was sure, he would find joy in it someday.

It was a testament to the consistency of pain in Remus' life that the idea of this new torment did not bother him too long. It was a horrifying idea, to be sure, but Remus faced it resignedly as he had begun to face everything. When the healer arrived again to deliver the potion, Remus was happy to see him.

The man saw Remus and smiled a grim smile. Remus could see lines of anxiety around the man's eyes. He had not slept well. Otherwise, he was as professional as before.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin," he said. "I hope there were no side effects from the potion last night."

"No," Remus said in a cheery, forced voiced. "I'm doing wonderful, as you can see." He gestured at his tattered clothing, freshly beaten face, and singed hair.

The man flinched a little at the callous manner of the patient, reserving comment. He drew out the vial from his pocket as Remus said, "You, however, do not look well, Healer. I would say you haven't slept well. Am I right?"

"The testing," the man said with a sigh, "is causing some anxiety among the staff. A lot is hinging on the results."

"Of course," Remus answered simply, "It would mean a lot to us if we could control the form."

The Healer looked more aggrieved at the understanding Remus had conveyed. Anger or fear or anything else would have felt more natural. His patient looked at him steadily, and smiled. "It's ok," he said. "It isn't your fault."

Remus felt that rush of power, the familiar crush of energy and inner strength, but there was no oblivion, no falling into darkness. He felt everything. The transformation brought pain, but not enough to defeat the sudden strength he felt. Like a thousand small bites all over his body, the stretching muscles ached for a moment, and were silent. Lifting his arm, he saw a clawed paw, and he knew, it was done. He had remained awake for the transformation and was in complete control of himself. The Healer had been right. The potion worked.

Then, he raised his eyes. The room of mirrors showed himself, his werewolf self, to him a thousand times over. He was large, hairy, and brown. Remus had grown to several feet taller than he was normally. His eyes were bright, shining brown orbs of earth. His ears were pointed towards the back of his head, as trees in a stiff breeze. Remus' mouth was littered with razor-sharp fangs that glistened with animal hunger. Despite the appearance, however, Remus felt no sudden urge to attack, no hunger for human flesh he had worried might remain. That idea had horrified him the most.

Even so, he felt repulsed by himself. He hated the thing, the werewolf within. It was for this thing that he was reviled by society. Were it not for this, he might have led a normal life. There was nothing he could do; however, except to wait for it to pass. The energy of the beast made it such that he knew he could not sleep. All he could do was lie there, still, in the room. The Dementor in the corner seemed to have forgotten about him. As a werewolf, he couldn't even feel the effect of them.

He lifted his head, sensing something. The door opened, and the a man entered, two Ministry-trained restraint wizards on either side. They weren't sure it had completely worked, Remus realized. It would be hard to tell when no one was around. Werewolves were not entirely stupid creatures. They would not attack a mirror image of themselves as if they were real.

"Remus?" a man asked, the voice terribly familiar to him. Remus turned his massive head towards Crouch, and gave him the best glare anyone had ever managed. Crouch stepped back, quickly. The restraint wizards raised their wands, ready. Remus relaxed and shifted backwards.

"Ah," Crouch said, nearly crooning with happiness, "I see the Healers have done a good job on this one. I was a little skeptical, myself, but they are rather smart."

Remus was silent. He was unable to speak, and he chose not to dignify the statement with even a growl. His senses were extended and he noticed unusual things. The man on the left had eaten a bowl of spaghetti for lunch, had several mugs of coffee, and a few pastries this morning. The man on the right had a tendency to wear colognes that did not quite fit with his natural smell. A sharper aroma would fit him better. Crouch was iron deficient.

Blood was the thing Remus could sense the best. It was as though he were programmed to know everything about it. From here, he could tell that the man on the left would have the most delicious blood. The one on the right would be sweeter, but not as nourishing. He would be sure to let the Healer know about this. It could help with the werewolf research.

"You see, now," Crouch said, his voice low and dangerous, "what the rest of us see in you. There is a beast within that cannot be stopped. It is a danger to us all. Likewise, there is another beast, another danger. You have the ability to help with that danger, at least. We have some ability to help with the other."

Remus could see where this was going. It sickened him, but his face could not convey that sort of emotion. He could see in the mirror that he looked merely impassive.

Crouch carried on, not waiting for an answer or sign of understanding. "To put it plainly, the Ministry is willing to front the costs of this experimental potion as long as you help us in our efforts to defeat the Dark Forces. We know you have had connections with them, whether initially planned by Dumbledore or not. It seems you may have overstepped your bounds. No one, not even the great forgiver Dumbledore, has stepped forward in your defense. Your best hope is to cut a deal with us. We have enough to book you in Azkaban for a couple year stint, at least. Is it worth that? Is it worth ruining your future?"

Remus sat there, inwardly fuming, outwardly passive. He hated men like this, users of others. Yet, the offer had temptations. He was rarely tempted with anything. Most people ignored his wants, only seeking something from him or wanting nothing to do with him. Here, Crouch had found a weak area. Remus was constantly aware of the danger he posed every time he transformed, all the more when he did it with no shelter or protection. This temptation angered him even more.

"I'll let you think about it, of course. No need to answer now," Crouch said with a chuckle.

The beast sensed something. Remus could feel it, weakness. The two men flanking Crouch had lowered their wands and stood, superior and relaxed, beside him. Crouch was already beginning to turn dismissively. The door behind them was still wide open. Following instinct, Remus kept his front arms relaxed, supporting his upper body. His back legs shifted up parallel with the floor and braced against the back wall. When Crouch had turned halfway about, Remus used the massive wolfish muscles to launch himself across the room. It was an easy leap for him.

The two attack wizards had hardly moved before he toppled them like dominos. He caught and tossed Crouch as he flew by, hearing a decided crunch sound as he hit the wall inside the room. Remus hit the hallway wall, and sprang off of it to the left. Everyone who had entered, so far, had come from that direction.

The hallway was long and littered with doorways opening on either side. Remus bounded down the hallway, beginning to enjoy the exhilaration of the speed and power. His paws bounced lightly and silently across the floor. No alarm had gone up by the time he turned the corner. The lifts! He was still in the Ministry building.

None of the lifts waited for him. They were all busy elsewhere. There was glass between the lifts, and he could see down to the floor of the Atrium, at least four floors below. Remus the person knew that was a death drop, but Remus the wolf...

A cry went up from behind him, and he knew there was no time to wait. Powerful foreclaws outstretched, Remus shattered through the glass and rained down with the glass upon the floor below. Except, the floor was not below him. As he fell, he realized that his aim was not true. He was headed for the fountain statue. It was a great statue of the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold. Her first act, when newly appointed a month before, was to have a statue erected. "It will show everyone who is in charge," the Prophet had misquoted her, snidely.

The first shards of glass began to toss the ever-still pool of water as Remus collided with, and toppled, the statue. He cried out in pain as the full weight of his body met the heavy metal form. His cry, however, resounded throughout the Atrium as a ferocious roar. The wizards and witches walking through the Atrium – those who hadn't cowered seeing the massive form tumbling from on high – covered their ears from the deafening sound, and fell to the ground in fear.

Remus climbed down from his perch – the fallen statue – and raced down towards the nearest fireplace. He roared into it, and was transported away from the Atrium. Finding himself alone on the streets of London, Remus tore off, seeking somewhere he could hide. He may have escaped the Ministry, but they would give chase. A werewolf running the streets of London could not help but attract attention.

He began to feel the impact of the fall as he went. His left leg was torn and bloody, it began to ache as he went. He knew he must be leaving a trail of blood. Regardless, he could not stop his flight. He would not give in. Remus wondered, as he went, if werewolves could Disapparate. None ever had, that he was aware of. Of course, he could be the first test subject to have control of his own mind when he was in that state. At a minimum, no one had ever had his need at the time.

The streets were quiet in the area surrounding the Ministry. Fortunately, the twilight hour had seen many people home. 'Perhaps,' thought Remus, 'it is a weekend, too.' He had no sense of the day. All of them had begun to blur together. In the outside world, even though hunted, he had found papers, Muggle or Wizarding, and kept track of time through them. In the room of mirrors there was no time. His transformation was the first thing to demonstrate he had not fallen out of time.

He looked up, suddenly realizing something. There it was, the full moon. For the first time since he was a little boy, he could look up at that pale body, complete and perfect. It brought a tear to his beastly eye, it was pretty, but meant so many terrible things for him. It's appearance in the sky changed his very being. A dozen blocks or so from the Ministry, he paused just to admire it for a moment.

Sounds of running and angry cries began to reach him, and he tore his eyes away from the sky. He had more pressing worries. Remus' mind fell back to the tales he had heard, as a young child, of villagers chasing off the monsters with torches and pitchforks. These were not the tales that Muggle children heard, these were real. Here he was, though, fleeing from what could only be a mob of wizards and witches. They would be armed with lit wands, but the idea was the same.

He leapt forward, ignoring the pain in his leg. It had swelled since he had left the Ministry. He had great strength in this form, but was unsure how long he could keep running. Besides, where could he go? No one would look twice if Remus entered a building, but a great werewolf? In any case, he was bleeding heavily. His trail couldn't be simpler to follow.

Crossing through an alley, Remus thought he smelled something familiar. Turning his head in mid-run, he saw a few figures looking out of a doorway. That was the last thing he saw. Something struck him, hard, and he fell unconscious. He never felt his body hit the ground.


	25. Chapter 25: Trust

Remus' head swam and his vision followed. Something was different. His vision, as it cleared, was normal. He didn't notice anything unusual, he didn't sense anything extraordinary. He was human once more.

"Hey, Igor!" called a voice Remus did not know. "Igor, he's waking up!"

Remus saw a couple strange faces slide into view and then bob back out. Igor's replaced them. It was clear that he had to lean over a table that was around waist high. He looked down with concern on his old friend, and Remus, for a moment, pitied the man. Igor looked terrible. His face was thin and wan. He looked recently injured or ill. There was certainly something unsettling about the way he was looking at Remus.

The look disappeared, though, and Igor smiled when he could see Remus looking back at him. "Welcome back, you gave us a bit of a scare."

"Igor," Remus said, "What? Where are we?"

"Well," Igor said, taking Remus' hand to help him sit up, "as I understand it, you escaped the Ministry - spectacularly, I might add - and ran wild through the streets of London. It was so big, the Ministry wasn't able to prevent the story from showing up in the Muggle papers. The Muggle official story was a bear escape from some traveling circus."

Remus nearly chuckled. Igor did. "Good to see you awake, and smiling, even. I guess I would be smiling, too, if I had escaped from them."

"I...I am glad to be away," Remus said, his voice shaking a little, "they did terrible things. Things I would not have thought...as the Ministry, I mean. They always seemed to claim the higher road, stuffy, and often unkind, but not so wrong."

"And...and did you...?" Igor asked slowly as Remus looked down at the thoughts.

Remus snapped his head around, looking hard at Igor. "I told them nothing," he said, scathingly. "They certainly seemed to know I had been around your friends, but had nothing but empty assumptions."

"Good lad," Igor said, clapping Remus on the back and looking around at his fellows. "I told you he'd come through for us, didn't I?"

"Yeah," one or two answered, "good show."

"Wish I'd had a chance to mess with 'em," a young looking Death Eater said. He seemed younger than Remus. It seemed to him that this young man had been a fourth year in Hogwarts when he graduated. The school taught much, and to everyone, indiscriminately.

"How'd you do it?" the same young one asked, eyes wide and excited.

Remus thought back to the events of the evening. "They gave me the tools and the chance," he began reflectively. "I just took it. They've developed a potion," he added, looking at Igor significantly, "a potion that allows a werewolf to keep his mind while he transforms. When Crouch came in with more threats and...a deal, I escaped the room. From there, you seem to know more than I remember."

"A potion to do that?" asked one of the older Death Eaters. His face was covered in skepticism. He was not one of the ones who had applauded Remus' declaration of telling the Ministry nothing. "How can we be sure of any of this story? For all we know, they let him out to make it seem more impressive."

"Would they release a wild werewolf into the Ministry itself?" Igor asked harshly. "They might if he had his mind, of course, but you would have to at least concede that he had told a truth."

"That still doesn't convince me he didn't tell them anything," the man said, stepping forward, even with Igor. "He could have been sent back to us as a spy, to report the things he sees. Remember, he brought you that Time Turner that was retaken. The night of chaos. You remember it, yes?"

"What?" Remus asked, wide-eyed. "What happened to the Turner?"

"Where were you?" the man demanded, turning on Remus.

"We have already established this, Henry," Igor answered for him. "We had at least three eyewitnesses that said he -"

"I want to hear him tell me," Henry growled, cutting off whatever Igor was about to say.

Remus answered, unblinkingly, "I returned home. The Ministry showed up and took me in. I had no time to react, and I still do not know how they found me. I was very careful."

"You see!" Igor answered. "His story corroborates those members of Dumbly."

"Dumbly?" Remus asked.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," one Death Eater laughed. "We thought a fitting nickname was in order." A couple of the others chuckled, one or two just looked weary.

"I still don't trust him," Henry stated, his voice dangerous.

"You don't have to," Igor said flatly. "He really didn't know enough to get anyone in trouble but me. I'm taking the risks, but he's an old friend. I trust him."

Remus pretended to stretch his legs. He didn't want to get caught in the middle of this, if he could avoid it. He didn't know these men, and could not begin to guess their connection with Igor. They could be low-level Death Eaters with no pull. On the other hand, there could be one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's inner circle present. Nobody would care if something happened to a low-level guy. Remus didn't think he stood a chance alone against the inner circle. He was good, but they were brutal and powerful.

"The Dark Lord wants us to keep a watch for spies," Henry said, eyes narrowed towards Remus. "He wants them brought to Him, if we have any suspicions. Says He'll know."

"I'm sure He will," Igor stated, "when we find a spy, but Remus isn't one of them. I'll vouch for him."

One man, still hooded, gasped, and looked down at his arm. Several of the Death Eaters looked over at him, apprehension dawning on their faces.

"He's coming," the man said, voice hard, deep, and terrified.

"What? Now?" Igor cried.

"Yes," answered the masked man, voice reaching a state of panic. He knelt and everyone else imitated him. Remus hardly had time to tumble off the table and rise to his knees before a series of cracks echoed in the small room.

A set of five Death Eaters, hooded and standing, surrounded the group. In the center, calm and confident stood He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Remus had never set eyes on him before. His snake-like, pale head surveyed the present company. Remus felt those burning red eyes sweep over his own without a thought, without even a curiosity. It was pure indifference he could feel. Somehow, that felt worse than the expected hatred, it was demeaning and cruel. Voldemort was a master at it.

Spotting the hooded Death Eater, Voldemort beckoned him over. The Death Eater rose, hurried forward, and knelt at Voldemort's feet. All eyes were locked on the two, all ears were peaked and all breath was baited.

"Have you completed the task I set you?" Voldemort asked, looking down at the man with a look between hunger and malice.

"N-no, Lord," the man said, sweat beginning to drip down his neck. "I have almost completed -"

"Almost?" Voldemort asked, letting the last syllable ring out hollowly in the room. "I was not aware I set you a task that could be partially completed. Have you completed the task I set you?"

"No."

Voldemort's red eyes contracted. "I see," he said in a breathless whisper. "Failure is not tolerated; you know this."

"Yes, m..my Lord," answered the man, sweat pooling at the base of the mask. He lowered his head, resigned.

Voldemort turned to another Death Eater, stepping away from the kneeling man. He nodded. Remus thought he could almost sense the masked face smirk. A wand appeared, and the Death Eater struck, merciless from his master's order. "_Avada Kedavra!_" he cried as a flash of green light illuminated the darkest corners of the room, and then faded. The kneeling Death Eater crumpled.

Voldemort pointed at Henry. "It is your mission now. You have a week. Use your team however you need to."

Henry nodded, seemingly in such shock at being addressed by Voldemort that he could not speak. Remus realized that he, too was terrified. He was so scared he couldn't even move. At this instant, he remembered that this was his sworn enemy, that this terrifying man was the cause of all the trouble in the world, that it ought to be his duty to do anything he could to kill or defeat this man. He couldn't move.

His heart filled with shame at the thought of it. He who faced danger and the hatred of his own friends without hesitation, who had attacked friend and foe for what he thought was right, could do nothing. Still, no one else had made a move without Voldemort's say so. Even the dead man had slumped over and lain still, free as he was from the fear of his Dark Lord.

Voldemort spoke again to Henry, who seemed to have been implicitly promoted. "I see you have added a werewolf to your group. Often a fine choice. A pity he cannot transform for your effort."

"Yes, Lord," Henry said, bowing. "He was otherwise occupied during the full moon, and has since joined us."

Voldemort looked directly at the man a moment before laughing, a cold horrible laugh, but a laugh. "Ah," he said at last, turning towards Remus for a closer look. "so this is our little escapee, is it?"

Remus nodded dully. It was all he could do to hold himself together. Whatever he had expected, Voldemort taking a direct interest in him with no introduction was not it. His thoughts flashed back to a quiet hour with Dumbledore months – no, years now - ago.

_Dumbledore and Remus sat across from each other in McGonagall's study, at the Headquarters. There was a thin mist in the air beyond the large, glass windows. It had felt so ominous that day. Dumbledore's face was wan as it often had appeared since the war started. He bore the worries of the world upon him. He confided in no one. Remus couldn't help admire and understand the pain of that, especially in retrospect._

_"Remus," he had said. "As I send you on this mission, it is our hope that you will gain for us some valuable knowledge in this war. It is not the most visible mission, filled with such bravado as the Aurors face day-to-day. It may not be the kind to make your name remembered. However, it may be one of the most urgent and dangerous I have given to date. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes," he had replied, hardly taking in more than that Dumbledore was trusting him for something important. Dumbledore was trusting him._

_"The dangers, the greatest dangers, lie within your own mind," Dumbledore continued. Seeing the look of confusion on Remus' face, he explained, "Your memories, your memories of everything, especially meetings such as this one, are the best weapons your enemies can have, and you are walking into their midst openly, expressing, at best, disdain for us._

_"But, you will not march in unprotected. Before you go, I will teach you an important and difficult branch of magic. It is called Occlumency. Perhaps you have heard of it?"_

_Remus had, and nodded assent._

_"Excellent. Shall we begin?" _

_For hours, Dumbledore had penetrated his mind, carefully instructing and imparting tools that could help in his defense, until Remus had mastered it. By the time he left, Dumbledore could not penetrate at all. Rather than act surprised, Dumbledore merely chuckled at being repulsed successfully the first time._

_"What is funny, Professor?" Remus had asked._

_"I had a feeling, and - if I do say so - I am often right with feelings, that you would have no trouble with Occlumency. After years of holding back and hiding your greatest secrets, your mind is all too ready for it. It is for this reason, more so than others, that I have asked this of you. You have a more closed mind than any I have met. You will need this if Voldemort confronts you."_

Here he was. After so long, what Dumbledore had foreseen had come to pass. Instinctively, Remus locked so many doors, doors well selected in his many hours of preparation during his isolation. Voldemort entered. Remus nearly shuddered, but kept a straight face. It didn't feel much like Dumbledore's attacks. This was more like a terrible snake slithering through the corridors of his mind. Many of the locked doors felt a tug, intentional or not, and Remus redoubled his concentration. The doors remained closed. Voldemort saw the history he wanted him to see.

Remus could never be quite sure how long the attack had lasted, but when Voldemort retreated, looking down at him curiously, he was sure he heard the fading sounds of whispering among the Death Eaters assembled. Voldemort turned and walked back towards the center of the room. With a wave he called the group he traveled with, and they Disapparated. The cracks rung slow and long in the room.

Everyone still alive breathed a long sigh of relief. Remus nearly chuckled at the thought that Death Eaters were as terrified as he was of Voldemort. Yet, he felt a sense of triumph. He had done the unthinkable. He had held the truth from the seeking mind of Voldemort. He had defied his search for any indication of a tie to the Order of the Phoenix. Few had dared to keep anything from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and survived. Fewer still could have ever suggested they had succeeded.

Remus felt such a high, that he smiled appreciatively when Igor spoke to Henry saying, "You see! The Dark Lord has seen him! Is that not enough proof for you?"

"I've never seen him scrutinize anyone that much," another said to the room at large. "I would have fainted at that sort of attention."

"You're tougher than you look, kid," Henry admitted. "Perhaps you can help us in this mission. That is...if you don't have any objections?"

"None at all."

"Excellent," Igor cried. "Two old buddies fighting side-by-side!"

Remus laughed, but his mind was diverted by this. Was this the reason Igor wanted him around? Was he trying to reclaim something long lost? It had been so long, what with his parents' move and all, between when they had lost contact and when they had become reacquainted. Perhaps, in trying to bring Remus into his group, he was trying to relive a bit of those mischievous days of youth.

For a moment, Remus pitied the man once more. Whatever Remus had faced, Igor had not had an easy life, it seemed. Whatever it was that had drawn him into this organization had to have hurt him. Remus had always wondered how that fun-loving, sweet kid next door could turn into a follower of the Darkest of Wizards. This statement made Remus wonder if he were drawing closer to the truth.

He had no time for such considerations now, however. Henry called him and a Death Eater named Stanley over. "Take care of the body," he said, voice unnecessarily harsh. "The usual way," he added to Stanley.

Stanley flicked his wand and the Death Eater body rose into the air, as though held by strings and walked out of the room. Remus followed in his wake. They crossed into an alley that had no windows. Remus recognized it and nearly tripped on a barrel. This was Dark Alley! They had brought him to Dark Alley, the scene of one of his most risky adventures.

In the middle of the street, Stanley kept the body suspended, still. Turning his head towards Remus he said, "Light him ablaze."

"What?" Remus asked, incredulous.

"Light him on fire."

"I...but he's dead," Remus asked, appalled. "Shouldn't he be buried or..."

"It is our way," Stanley answered as though he were talking about a manner of serving soup. "Would you prefer we left him in an alleyway to rot?"

Remus could see his point. At least, at least with this there was some resemblance to the old funeral pyres of old. With that thought in mind, he waved his wand in a complicated flourish and flames encircled the floating body, burning brilliantly and serenely. The air itself began to glow with a warmth and energy that Remus had created. He would make this unlike any other funeral the Death Eaters had given.

Stanley stood back, barely managing to keep his wand raised and the body aloft, as Remus moved fluidly before him, playing the fire powerfully in the air. His pendant shown through his shirt, a burning fire of its own upon his chest. The body was not visible now, the fire was too great. Every crevice of the alley was alive with the light, and now colors, dazzling in array, filled the space. This all occurred soundlessly but for the shuffle of Remus' footsteps as he moved about. The fire did not crackle or rush. It simply was.

Turning his back to it with one last wave of his wand, Remus finished it. The light and flame faded and nothing was left of the body. He – whatever horrible things he may have done – was now dissolved into dusts that had scattered into the winds. A hero could but want such a send off. Remus did not know this man's faults. He did not know the good – if any – there had been in him. All he knew was that he would not feel right doing it any other way.

Following a shocked, silent Stanley back into the building, Remus reflected on the losses he had seen, and wondered at the ones he might yet live to see. The door shut behind them, and the alley was dead and dark again. Its most beautiful moment witnessed by none but these two.


	26. Chapter 26: The Mission

Sunset blazed over London, a reaching fire. The buildings burned with an orange hue, and pedestrians and drivers alike shielded their eyes from the intense light. Remus stood atop a warehouse on the south side, soaking in the light, feeling the sun's heat caress his face in subtly softening waves. He shut his eyes, feeling the warmth and the soothing light breeze ripple through his hair. This was calm, a thing he had not found much in his life.

'Funny,' he thought, 'how the moment before such a mission could be the most relaxed of my life.'

In a minute, he would join the Death Eaters, and they would do horrible things. He wasn't sure what, today. They wanted to test his resolve, he was sure, before they set about the important mission Voldemort had given them. This was just a warm-up for things to come. What choice did he have? Did he even care about choices? They only led him here, beaten, battered, and espoused only by those who would kill him without a thought.

If you had to live, and all you did led you to do the wrong things, why not at least embrace the one true thing about yourself? Remus did not bother to answer the questions some part of him had asked. He was tired of questions without answers. Tonight he had only action.

Creak. Remus turned and opened his eyes, not waiting to be addressed. "Time?" he asked. Igor nodded, smiling. "All right," Remus said. "Let's go."

Remus followed Igor downstairs. Henry was there, and two of the other team members. Rarely did all of a team go on a mission. Igor had explained it to him.

"If some of us get caught or die, where's the team?" he had said. "That's why we tend to go by first names, too. If someone gets caught, its harder to squeal when you know just first names. The Dark Lord, though, He knows everyone. He has nothing to worry about, though. Like the Ministry could keep Him even if they caught Him."

Remus had laughed at this. Seeing how easily he had escaped custody, it was hard to imagine the Ministry posing a threat to Voldemort. No one was laughing now, though. A mission was serious, at least to these lowly peons in Voldemort's army. He had heard about some of the top supporters, some truly mad or brilliant. To these everything was a big joke. They had the skills to back it up, though.

"Team," Henry said, walking up and down in front of them in a way that reminded Remus of James talking to his Quidditch team, "tonight is a practice for tomorrow. Tomorrow will be much more difficult."

"What are we doing, Henry?" the excitable young Death Eater asked.

"We have a visit to pay to an esteemed member of the Improper Use of Magic Committee," Henry answered, a small smirk on his face.

"What'd he do?" Remus found himself asking.

"Does it matter?" Henry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I suppose not," Remus said, amused. 'Matter-of-fact,' he added to himself, 'I have a bone to pick with them.'

"Good, then," Henry said. "You can go point."

Remus nodded, taking the address from Henry.

"We'll be right behind you," Henry said. "Just get into the house and ensure he's alone."

Remus raised his hood, lifted the mask to cover his face, and Disapparated. He appeared a block from the house. It was a wealthy neighborhood outside of London proper. The streets were cobblestone and the hedges sat snugly behind iron rod fences. Although close set to the street, each house had a uniqueness and largess that suggested wealth. The sun had fallen below the horizon, and twilight had descended.

He counted the doors as he went along, and slowed as he approached number seventeen. This was the place. Remus' hand slid into his pocket, and held his wand loosely as he walked. With the swiftest flicks, he raised it and lowered it, opening the door silently. He slipped inward, and, leaving the door slightly ajar, crossed the threshold.

Out of view, Remus lifted his bowed head and brought his wand out into full view. He flicked it, whispering a faint, "_Lumos_." The tip of his wand lit, illuminating the room before him. The house was dark and silent, and this new light revealed only a sliver of the room at a time.

As he had imagined, the house was large. A mirrored staircase ran up both the left and right wall to the upper level. The ceiling was high, but he dared not extend his light to find it. Anyone present would probably be upstairs. He searched the ground floor. The kitchen, sitting rooms, dining room, and assorted abandoned servant's quarters were all empty. It looked as though the household had once had great wealth. The grandiose appearance was tempered by the lack of care.

'Galleons must be tight, these days,' Remus thought. He knew the feeling of lost wealth. He had lived it.

He ascended the stairs, still as quiet as he could be. No one appeared to be home. As he reached the landing, a vase exploded next to Remus' ear, and he ducked, swinging his wand up defensively. The old man stood, wand arm shaking with a mixture of fear, hate, and old age.

"You're not going to take me!" he yelled, waving his wand wildly. Remus blocked the spell easily. "_Stupefy_!" he cried. The man crumpled. His wand clicked on the wooden floor. No one appeared. No other attack came. Either someone was being smart or there was no one around. A thought occurred. "_Hominum Revelio_," he muttered. Only he and this man were present. The silence was true.

A moment later, a loud, distant bang sounded. Turning with his wand out, Remus peered down through the darkness. A set of laughing, jeering Death Eaters reached the staircase. Evidently, they had come in from the backdoor. With a mixture of relief and a sense of twisted irony, Remus lowered his wand. "Up here," he called.

The young one, Will, reached him first. "Oy! You didn't save none of the fun for us?" he exclaimed.

"He wasn't willing to sit still, and you took so long to get here," Remus replied sarcastically.

"Heh," Igor laughed behind Will. "He hasn't had all the fun."

"No," Henry said, eyes glittering strangely in the near-darkness. "We're not done here."

Henry kicked the wand over the ledge. It clicked hollowly from below. "_Ennervate_!" he shouted, reviving the old man.

The man recoiled, feeling around blindly for a wand that was not there. Remus felt sorry for him. What a moment that must be, waking to a room full of hooded and masked figures, facing death. 'Death?' Remus asked himself. 'Are we to kill this man?'

"What do you want?" the man cried, desperation evident. When his face rose into the center of the wand light, when the details, the folds and wrinkles were fully revealed, then Remus knew him. He knew this man. Years before, when he had come before the committee, this man had condemned him for an act of good. He had made Remus pay for saving lives.

"Want? Us?" Henry asked, feigning incredulity. "Why should we want anything?"

A few of the Death Eaters snickered. Remus hung back, confused. What was right? Were they going to kill him? Should Remus care? Should he intervene? Should he try to dissuade them? He could see the thread lines of the conversation before him. It was coming.

"Actually, we thought you'd like something," Henry said. A Death Eater who had been in the shadows of the staircase emerged. He laid a large dog on the floor. It wasn't breathing.

"You pigs!" the man cried. He lunged at the man, but Henry was too fast. With a wand flick, the man fell back, in shock. There was a hot and bleeding cut across his face. His anger was exactly what the Death Eaters had sought.

"Now, now," Henry said, enjoying the look of hatred in the man's face. "Your little pup attacked our little pup." He patted Will on the shoulder. "Nearly got a good bite out of him, you know?"

The man had tears in his eyes, but his cheeks betrayed the fermenting anger. "You are scum," he said, voice trembling with barely controlled emotion. "Killing a poor dog. He wouldn't attack an intruder. He probably licked your faces."

"Shut your mouth, old man," said the Death Eater who had carried the dog.

"You can't silence me, you bast -"

"_Crucio_!" Henry cried, laughing. The man began to jolt and scream in pain. Henry let up, taunting him, "Scream all you want, now."

The others took turns torturing the poor man. Remus stayed back. He didn't take part, but he didn't stop them. Could he have? He watched, horrified, but he watched. There was blood, patches of blood across the wood floor where the man's limbs or head had struck particularly hard. When they stopped for a moment, Remus turned his head away, not daring to look at those pleading, more and more disconnected eyes.

The Death Eaters grew bored. The man's cries had become feeble and distant. Where was the fun in tormenting a rag doll? The others stopped taking turns, and Henry, looking around, saw his group's boredom. "Well," he said, "that was fun, eh?"

With a more powerful stroke of the wand, he finished it. "_Avada Kedavra_!" he cried. With a flash of green, the man joined his dog. Remus felt an awful crawling beneath his skin. It was horrifying, and, moreover, he had stood there and let it happen. There had been no reason, no accusation of any sort. This was just some old man that they had targeted, for what? Because they needed something to do? Was it for practice?

Remus was seething, silently. This was wrong, this was far beyond anything the man may have deserved. Men, good or bad, deserved some sense of dignity. This man, Remus couldn't even remember his name, had died like a dog, beaten and defenseless. He had died worse than his own dog, in fact. The dog had no visible injuries. Remus had found evil, and it was casual and unconcerned. It gave him just the slightest bit of comfort that he felt so terrible about it. These men felt nothing, nothing at all.

Henry looked over at Remus, who suddenly realized he stood apart from them. He had a sudden fear that they were going to realize his revulsion, that they would remember he had not taken part, realize that, perhaps, he despised them for what they had done. Remus could not read Henry's face, nor anyone's, because of the masks. 'Funny,' a part of Remus thought, 'because I could have sworn they were smiling while they attacked the man.'

Henry made no accusation, however. "Stanley says you have a gift with fire," he said, casually. "I'd very much like to see it."

Remus nodded. He couldn't think of much to say. At least, he could give this man a fair send-off. Of anyone, this man should have it. No one made a move, so he assumed Henry meant him to do it there. Remus surveyed the space. The ceiling was still high above. The balcony to the wall had a good three meter gap. There was space. He lifted his wand.

Henry lifted the dog and the master together, a pair of rag dolls suspended by invisible strings in the middle of the hallway. Everyone took a step away from both Remus and the pair. He moved. The fire began, the color and the motion. It was a blur to him, this time. At one point, Remus' mask fell off, but he did not stop to replace it. He continued, concentrating, alive!

There was a fire that burned, besides the pair floating eerily, besides the pendant, even. It flowed through every vein in his body, and Remus thought, for a moment, that he could hear that beautiful phoenix song. How long ago had that been? He caught sight of himself in a mirror down the hall, and did not recognize himself. His cloak was not black, but blood red, his eyes glowed a fire's orange, and his hands were pure white light. When he saw the mirror again, the image was gone. He was as he always had been.

It ended. Remus could not say that he ended it. It just seemed that he and the fire had finished their pantomimes at the same time, each pretending a connection with the other. The crushing guilt descended, but it did not defeat him. The white light, the fire within held it off. His mind was firm on something, though. A decision had been made, even as he had had to confront the effects of his inaction.

Looking up, Remus saw the solid wall of Death Eaters. The masks were impassive, and no one spoke. Will handed him his mask. Remus looked down at it, examining the white emptiness of its face, before putting it back on. The mask could not cover true feeling within. He had proven this. It would come off again, soon, and forever.

The troop departed, pausing only for Henry to set the Dark Mark over the home. Even its horrible visage could not deter Remus' thoughts. This was just the warm-up mission. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, sometime this week they would have the real mission. Voldemort had decreed it. Remus would be there. 'Soon,' he thought, 'you will be avenged, old man.'


	27. Chapter 27: The Betrayal

Remus looked across the table. A grizzled man nodded at him, and stood, shaking Remus' hand. As he turned to go, Remus thought to himself, 'The deed is done.' Of course, he could have changed the plans, warned people of the danger, but he would not. This act was as it had to be. The plans would proceed, both of them.

The next mission was nigh, and Remus was ready for it. They only had a couple more days before Voldemort's deadline would come and go. Henry had become more and more frantic about their planning, as confident as they were. Remus and every other member of the team knew their respective parts. Now, there was only the matter of execution.

Henry had addressed the group. Remus was sitting in a back room, meditating on things. Ever since the last mission, calm and quiet had suited him best. No one had mentioned the fire dance, but everyone had given him a wider girth afterwards. Remus knew he should be afraid of being watched too carefully, but he could not manage it.

Henry had knocked. "Meeting, ten minutes," he had said.

Remus met with the other team members down in the meeting room, the same room he had woken in the day after the last transformation. Everyone sat around fidgety, but quiet. No unnecessary chatter or laughter met him as he came down the hall. It was a testament to the mood that no one even reacted to his entry. Igor was concentrating hard on a spot along the floor.

Henry came in a minute later. He paced up and down, face drawn in concentration. A few of the Death Eaters watched him intently. Remus sat still, mimicking Igor by staring at a place along the walls.

"We have another assassination to make," he said, looking around at them. Remus could feel the tension from everyone as he spoke. No one cracked a joke. "This one, though, will be most difficult."

"It's not...Dumbledore, is it?" Will asked, voice quavering in fear. Remus' mind seemed to freeze.

"No."

The air seemed to lighten. A couple of the Death Eaters sighed in relief, laughing.

"With all that build-up," Igor said, "we thought it had to be."

"It's not Dumbledore," he said, eyes narrowed, "but it won't be much easier."

The silence that followed was more questioning. Each, including Remus, was wondering, 'Who is as tough as Dumbledore?'

"You probably have never heard of him," Henry said, "but by all reports he will be difficult to bring down. He has resisted all efforts of ours to join. He has no family, no method to intimidate. As such, the only other option, for someone so powerful, is death. No one has succeeded."

"And how are we to succeed," Igor asked, his left eyebrow raised, "where everyone has failed? Has He not attempted it?"

"He cannot be bothered directly with everything," Henry snapped back. "You know that. Why have Death Eaters if they cannot carry out tasks for you?"

"What's so special about him?" Stanley asked.

"He's supposed to be good with fire," Henry replied. "Good thing we have our own fire expert here." He nodded over at Remus, who hardly noticed. 'Good with fire,' he thought. 'It couldn't be...'

"Who's the target?" Will asked.

"Some bloke named Fleinfold," Henry answered, shrugging at the blank looks he received.

Remus' mind went numb in an instant. There could be no doubt, now. His suspicion had been confirmed. They were out to kill the man he had come to see as a protector and friend, and, further, he was integral to the plot.

"Ah," came a voice to Remus' left. He turned, and saw it was Igor. Evidently, he remembered the name.

When he said nothing, Henry asked him, "Igor? Do you know the man?"

"We had a mission once," Igor answered, "some time ago. I forget the details, but he was involved, somehow."

"Interesting," Henry said, eyeing Igor with interest. "If you remember anything of use, let me know."

Then, he laid out the plan. They had a lead on where Fleinfold would be eating that evening. It might be their only opportunity to find him in a public place. Six of them would go in. If all went well, it would be quick and safe. Henry had strict orders for them. There was no playing around or slow intimidation. Fleinfold was far too dangerous to trifle with.

Through the planning and the hours that followed, for Henry had told them the plan a few hours before their departure, Remus had kept a calm exterior. It was easy, these days. With everything he had faced, keeping relaxed under extreme duress was not a problem. Except, he wasn't.

Inside, Remus was torn. He began to second guess himself, to wonder if what he was doing was best. Here he sat, between two friends: Igor from a childhood not forgotten and Fleinfold, his benefactor in recent years. Igor had personally done him no wrong.

Of course, he had joined up with the Dark Forces, the ones Remus had sworn to ally himself against. He had contributed to the torture of the man from the last mission, at least. The casual nature of the act told Remus that it had been one of many such occurrences. He knew all this, but Igor had always been Igor to him. It had become impossible to separate the child from the monster. Where was the division?

On the other hand, there was no question at all that Fleinfold was truly good. He had given Remus advice, shelter, and saved him from losing himself in a hateful attack. In a way, Remus thought of him as a traveling father, often gone, but always helpful when he was there. Only, he, the son, was away in hiding.

To both he owed something, some positive times and memories, some level of his existence. Igor surrounded a darker aspect of his life. Even now, though, with whatever else had happened to Igor, he still had a smile for Remus. He still had a touch of that mischievous boy in his eye when he met up with Remus with a mission. Something about breaking the rules had interested both of them as children. Their road had forked, somewhere. Despite his fun with the Marauders, Remus had lost that simple impishness that had gotten the two of them into so much trouble as children. Life had killed that part of him forever.

Remus paused to think of what his old friend saw in him. He did not have that life and vivacity of Igor. Looking in a mirror, a cracked and loose one Remus had come upon in the uppermost floor of the building, he saw a man older than himself, tired and sad. His eyes had those perpetual rings of darkness above colorless cheeks. He looked like death, he decided.

'Perhaps this is why they wear the masks,' Remus thought. 'Not to strike fear and protect their identities. It is to hide the weak humanity of their bodies. Everyone felt pressure and fear. The Death Eater masks prevented anyone from seeing it.'

He passed the last minutes, those precious moments, trying to make decisions. What could he do? Everything was set into motion. If he asked to sit out the mission, it would look suspicious. Why did time, often so abundant, now seem so short? Igor would be there in a moment to take him for one last walk downstairs. They had only been here together such a short time, but Remus already had a positive attachment to the brief moments he had to speak with Igor alone.

Hearing footsteps outside the door, Remus stepped away from the mirror. Igor entered when he was halfway to the door. He looked more somber and drawn than usual. Remus again felt that pang of doubt and pity. Yet, he wore the mask proudly, what did Igor have to hide behind it?

"Ready, old friend?" Igor asked.

"Yes," Remus said, matching his friend's grim smile. "You?"

"Of course," Igor answered. "Something has been troubling me, though."

"What?"

"This Fleinfold," Igor said, plainly. "His name sounds so familiar."

Remus shrugged. "It sounds as though the Dark Lord has been trying to get him on His side for some time. You probably had some minor mission around that in the past."

"Maybe."

"Even so," Remus pressed, "It shouldn't really matter, should it? He's just another target."

When Igor was silent for a moment, Remus asked, "You spend a couple years at Hogwarts, right? I mean, before my...that is, before you moved."

"Yeah, why?" Igor asked questioningly.

"Well, you probably know Dumbledore better from that than you know this Fleinfold guy from a chance meeting, right?" Remus said. "If you were ordered to kill Dumbledore, would you worry about that?"

"No, I guess not."

"So, why worry about this guy?" Remus asked with finality.

"No reason, no reason at all."

"Then, let's go take care of this thing."

"Yes," Igor said more firmly. "Let's go."

The two descended to the ground floor. The others were waiting. The tension from before had been replaced with something more tangible. It wasn't quite excitement and it wasn't quite fear. Whatever it was, Remus could feel it in every movement and word of the Death Eaters gathered there. He was somewhere between the two, as well. He felt a biting worry and doubt, as well.

Henry seemed almost as nervous as Remus felt. He paced at a manic pace. Sweat beaded down his forehead, and he hadn't bothered to wipe it out of his eyes, which shown with a watery glitter in the lamplight. Remus couldn't feel any pity for this man, however. All he had known of him, from suspicion of Remus - right though he might be in it - to his leadership in the harassment and murder of that old man fed into the idea of a terrible, soulless being.

Henry stopped. All eyes locked on him. He nodded. They Disapparated as a group. Remus was not point this time, he was with the group hanging back a moment. Henry had taken point. It was his big moment. Remus and the others were standing in an alley. At the signal, half would rush in through the back entrance, half through the front. The restaurant was in an older part of town, and it was nearly closing time. There shouldn't be too many bystanders to get in the way. Henry was scouting for their target and for any trouble.

Red sparks shot out the back door. The signal! Remus and two others rushed to the front entrance. Another pair ran around the back. Remus thought he caught sight of some motion in the alley across the street, but there was nothing there. He felt a moment of paranoia, and knew it to be justified. They whipped around the front, and Remus kicked in the front door. It slammed back, and the Death Eaters poured in.

The restaurant was fairly small, but, to Remus' horror, was full of people. The tiny establishment had crammed so many tables into the space that the waitstaff had to lean across a table to reach many of their customers. Evidently, they didn't mind, because there wasn't an empty seat in the restaurant. For Remus, it meant too many people at risk.

In the center, seated at a small two-person table, Fleinfold stood out like a skyscraper in a small city. The tables around him had been shifted out of their neat rows to make space for him. He was sitting across from a much shorter man that Remus could not see well. Fleinfold was facing the door. He was one of the first to see the Death Eaters, who, along with Remus, had stopped at the door frozen in a moment of confusion.

Remus saw the others in the back, likewise stuck. Fleinfold rose to his feet, pulling out his wand. 'This is going to get ugly,' Remus thought. He glanced around for the frightened, panicked faces of customers, and then his stomach dropped out. All of them had seen the new entrants now, and none of them looked the least bit apprehensive. Even Fleinfold appeared only startled. Every single person in this room was here to fight.

Remus threw up a shield charm just in time. It protected the Death Eaters on either side of him from a sudden onslaught of attacks from everywhere. All of the customers had pulled wands and were firing at anything that moved. People fell left and right, hit by friend and foe alike. Remus was protecting as many people as he could with shields and deflecting spells, aware that he was doubtless helping enemies. But there was no way to know.

Half of the restaurant was on the floor in a moment. Some were still from stuns and body binds, some moaned from injuries. Remus hadn't seen any Killing Curses yet. It was too quick, too chaotic for anyone to concentrate that much. Light flew all around, a rainbow of pain and madness. The sound of the shouts and explosive impacts was deafening. Remus wondered whether the waitstaff had managed to get out of the way before the chaos unwound.

Remus found himself alone in the middle of the room when he saw Fleinfold before him. Forgetting for a second that he was dressed in full Death Eater attire, he smiled at his old friend. Fleinfold didn't see this, of course, but unleashed a powerful fire attack in his direction. Remus reacted instinctively, catching, and controlling the fire like a wave hitting a large bump in the ocean floor. It leapt over and around him, but did not consume him. He felt a sudden heat from his breast. The stone was glowing brightly, and had become white hot.

Fleinfold continued his attack, sending a serpent of flames twirling through the air at Remus. Without a thought, he responded, "_Angelis Aguanti_!" The water fiend devoured the serpent and Remus directed it back at Fleinfold. If he could knock him out, perhaps Remus could get him out of here. Then, he saw the shock in Fleinfold's face. His wand fell to his side even as Remus' water whirled at him. With an effort, Remus turned it, realizing the attack was over. It crashed into the ceiling, shattering the lights and tearing a hole in the roof. Dim moonlight fell in through the hole, but not enough to make up for the broken lights.

"Remus, what are you doing?" Remus heard from behind. He didn't look around, staring blankly at Fleinfold over the empty space between them. "Kill him! He's defenseless!"

Remus raised his wand, but didn't move. Fleinfold was staring straight at him. Remus realized his mask had fallen off. In the dim light of the room, the two saw each other. Remus could still see the shock in his friend's eyes, and Fleinfold could see everything in Remus' eyes. He nodded, a tear in his eye. A jolt of green flew through the air over Remus' shoulder, striking Fleinfold in the chest. He fell, face blank forever.

Remus couldn't hear anything for a second. Everything had gone a soft hazy color that was moving too quickly. Blurs of motion left and right went their merry way, but Remus was frozen, as though stuck in a moment in time. Fleinfold was gone! After all his efforts! After every attempt to get the Order to show up to prevent his death, he had failed. In fact, if he hadn't been there, if Fleinfold hadn't seen him then, he needn't have died. He would have had his guard up, would have moved in time.

He was angry and sad. He had failed, he knew that. It was his fault that Fleinfold had died. Yet, someone else had done it, a Death Eater. Remus was helping them. He was helping them kill and maim, and for what? For a disastrous attempt at stopping an assassination. All of his efforts, all of his coming close to the Death Eaters had led only to destruction and more pain.

The anger within him suddenly exploded. Remus couldn't see, he was blind. There was heat and light everywhere. The only sounds he heard were cries and shouts, but they sounded far away. The air seemed to pulse, and the hair on his arms prickled as though he were suddenly cold. The pendant on his neck felt like a miniature sun. The smooth surface seared his flesh.

Something exploded, and several things happened at once. The fire around him disappeared, the heat at his chest was replaced with pain, and darkness fell. Darkness and silence prevailed for a moment, and then Remus saw light. He was out on the street. Someone was dragging him out. The windows were blown out, no, the front wall for all practical purposes. There were scraping and running sounds everywhere.

Remus clutched his chest as the pain leapt. His chest was embedded with bits of rock. The pendant! That was what had exploded. His last reminder of Fleinfold, of his childhood and home, had gone in a flash of anger. Suddenly, the dragger clutched him tightly and they Disapparated.

While the tight coils of Apparition crushed his empty lungs, Remus felt remorse. He had betrayed them, he had become too much what they all fought. He was not the Dark Lord nor a Death Eater, but he had helped him. He had let his friends down, especially Fleinfold.

Everything he did hurt people. He had tried to save Lily and James from the destruction of their house, but he had caused it, too. He had wanted to help the Order prevent Death Eater actions, but they had succeeded anyway. Not only that, but he had dragged more people into it. How many were injured or dead? The chaos of that scene was still fresh in his mind. How could he live with himself now?


	28. Chapter 28: The Message

Remus collapsed in a chair by the door. The Death Eater, Stanley, sat across from him. He was quiet, like he had been that time after Remus had sent that murdered Death Eater. This time, however, he looked a wreck. His hands shook as he held them clasped on the table in front of him. Remus had no energy and his mind had emptied. So, he watched this man for a moment.

Stanley spoke first. "What happened?" he asked the air.

Remus looked at Stanley in more curiosity. Could this man, this callous Death Eater, care, actually care about his fellows? In his shock, Remus didn't show any sign of hearing him. His own thoughts kept drifting back, too, to the events of a moment ago. So many people had fallen. Had they made it out? Had he killed dozens in his anger? What _had_ actually happened?

He spoke, at a moment so long from when Stanley had spoken to be a new conversation. "The target is dead." Remus could hardly believe it was his own voice speaking. He felt filthy referring to Fleinfold that way.

"Really?" Stanley asked, his face showing the first bit of color in an otherwise pallid face.

"Yes," Remus said, watching Stanley's face. "I saw that much."

"At least there's that," Stanley said, visibly relieved. "Henry would be happy."

"Would be?" Remus asked.

"He ... fell," Stanley said softly. "There was so much going on, but I saw fire, so much fire, and he fell into it and never came out. I … I tried to help, but could not get through. When it faded, I found him there."

"And, and was anyone else...?" Remus asked, fear clearly engulfing his face.

"I don't know," Stanley answered. "I only saw him, and then you were a little further down. If you made it, I reckon others may have, too."

"We can only hope," Remus stated.

His heart sank at the thought of this thin hope. He already knew he had Henry's blood on his hands, in addition to his failure to save Fleinfold. 'Fire,' Stanley had said, 'so much fire.' His fire, his power, his murder.

Remus had killed before. How could he forget that? That had been a Death Eater, too, but still a man. 'It is a war,' a thought shouted to him. He replied, 'but I don't like what that makes me.' 'It makes you a man,' the thought replied. 'No, just a killer.'

Two Death Eaters Apparated across the room. Stanley leapt up to greet them. Remus found it difficult to move, so he kept still. He couldn't see who was there, they were behind him, but he could hear two different voices muttering to each other.

"Will! Burk!" Stanley cried. "Glad you're back! Remus is here. Henry..."

"Didn't make it," finished Burk, whom Remus remembered carrying the dog. "We know."

Remus couldn't help but comparing the warmth in Stanley's voice to the callousness of Burk. Still, the man might know more of what happened. Remus turned in his seat, crying out in sudden pain, hoping to see the new arrivals. He only made it halfway, and sank back as he had begun, panting for breath. The others ignored him.

"What happened to Igor?" Stanley asked, voice desperate for information.

"Mad-Eye captured him," he said. "The other Death Eater operatives all made it back to their respective groups."

"Others?" Remus asked, voice a carrying whisper.

"Ten, to be exact," Burk answered him. "The Dark Lord caught wind that Ministry and Order members were there to capture our group, and planned a counter-attack. Our sources suggest we were about even when all was said and done."

"And what of the enemy?" Remus asked, hating himself for having to use the term. He kept his voice calm, pushing it to sound a little hopeful, if he could.

"Various injured. All but the target managed to get out," Burk said, his voice changing for the first time to mild displeasure.

"Hmmph," Remus grunted unhappily. Inside, he felt a glow of hope. This was dashed by the sudden realization of what he had heard. As anxious as he had been for the Order members and the Ministry, he had hardly noticed that Igor was captured.

"But how," Remus asked, "How did this happen?"

"My sources say the Ministry found out from an Order tip that the attack was happening," Burk said. "A spy within the Order told the Death Eaters that these others were coming."

"I see," Remus said.

"But how did they know we were going to attack Fleinfold that night?" Stanley asked. "We didn't even tell the core Death Eaters that."

"I expect the Dark Lord more or less knows everything everyone is up to," Remus responded.

"I meant the Order," Stanley said.

"Clearly," Burk answered, "there is a traitor in our midst."

"A traitor?" Will asked, suddenly joining the conversation.

"Now, Burk," Stanley said quickly, "don't jump to conclusions."

"I'm not," Burk said, "my sources said that an informant passed the information to the Order. If no one outside our group, the Dark Lord aside, knew of this attempt before word broke, then one of us told."

"There are only four of us," Will whispered.

"Well, what of those who stayed behind?" Remus added. "They might have as easily told."

"No," Stanley said, "Henry told us the details after he dismissed the others."

"Oh, right," Remus said, reflectively.

"But Henry and Igor..." Will said softest of all.

"Would not have betrayed themselves, would they?" Burk said.

"It got out of hand, though," Remus said. "The traitor would not have known that there would be so many people there."

"Also," Stanley said, thoughtfully, "why did Henry give us the signal if there were so many people in there? It looked dangerous without realizing they were all armed."

"Maybe he was so desperate to succeed that he went ahead anyway," Remus said, fairly. He could have kicked himself for defending one of his few outs.

"What about Igor?" Will asked. "He was always so nice to us."

"Would a spy be mean?" Stanley replied. "He could have been captured as a way to escape us."

"Where's the proof in that?" Burk growled.

"Hold on," Remus said, still facing the wrong way, pausing to pant, his breath coming more and more shallow. "It's ...cough...no use fighting." His voice gave way to loud coughs and he spat up blood. The world began to spin, and he could not hear clearly. All he could see was the red splat of blood on the table before him, revolving.

There were raised voices, and then he felt a heavy impact on the side of his head. Darkness fell, and Remus slept without dreams. It was not a soothing sleep, but painful and aching. He could not wake from it, though. For a time, he wondered if he were paralyzed, and the horror made him feel claustrophobic in his own mind. He struggled against his sleep as an armless man in water. Remus had nothing to fight with but his will to wake and leave this limbo state.

When he woke, he thought that he had finally left the dreamless sleep and fallen into a nightmare. He was in a bed, bound and constrained by Healer bandages. The room was small and white-walled. In stark contrast, a man in black sat opposite him on a stool, eyeing him seriously. This man was thin, with familiar greasy hair falling about his shoulders. His eyes had that same maddening glare that seemed to look through you.

When nothing changed and Remus could feel the pain of his wounds and the bindings, he knew it was no dream. Remembering the dream world Snape had taken him to years before, Remus glanced around for any sign that this reality was false. Nothing appeared to him. This was exactly as it appeared. Now, he felt more uncertain than ever. What could Snape want of him? 'Whatever it is,' he decided, 'it cannot be good.'

"Awake?" Snape asked, his sneer forcibly held in check.

"What are you doing here?" Remus asked, voice paper thin and painful.

Snape looked down at him with a look between amusement and affront. "I have my reasons for seeing you."

"What do you..."

"I think your little game is at an end," Snape said plainly. "You made a poor spy, and already the Death Eaters are on the verge of discovering you. Were it not for your injuries, I dare say you might not be hale enough to speak with."

Snape's amusement at his own wit angered Remus more. "Gloat if you will, Snivellus," he growled, more painfully. "What are you going to do, turn me in? Then, go ahead. Get on with it."

"Oh no," Snape said, eyes flashing deliciously, savoring the moment. "That's not what I want at all."

When Remus said nothing, he went on. "You are healed enough now to move. The Healer we brought in does quick work. You need to overpower me, and escape."

"What?" Remus asked, confused. "Why would you let me free?"

"Because, you are going to pass on a message for me," Snape answered.

"Which is?"

"Tell Dumbledore that I must meet with him, alone."

"Tell him yourself, can't you?" Remus said, angrily. "I'm not your messenger."

"All other communication is carefully watched," he answered, eyes narrowing. "Surely you can see that?"

"Fine," Remus said, "if I take him this message, what then? The Death Eaters will know that I'm the traitor then."

"That is your affair," Snape said, casually. "I'm not your keeper. As I said, they are on the verge of making that assumption, in any case. I'm only giving you this opportunity to escape unharmed in exchange for passing a message along. Easy enough?"

"How can you be sure I'll pass on your message then?" Remus asked. "It sounds like a trap for Dumbledore."

"Are you saying you would lie to me?" Snape asked, eyes raised. "Perhaps the Death Eaters have rubbed off on you, after all.

"No," Remus said, angrily. "why should I tell him something that will lead him to a trap, an obvious one, perhaps, but a trap all the same?"

"The safety of some friends of yours, Lily and James," he said silkily, though he nearly growled James' name, "perhaps, might convince you to follow up on your part of the bargain."

"What do you-?"

"It is for a matter of utmost importance that I speak with Dumbledore," Snape cut in, sharply.

"Can't I just pass on the message, the full message?"

"No," Snape said, firmly. "It must be in person, stress that to him. I will meet him on the far east end of the Lincolnshire Wolds, on a hill with a view of The Cathedral of the Wolds. I will be there on Tuesday next, at dusk."

"But I-" Remus began, stopping at the look in Snape's eyes.

"Quickly," Snape demanded, "your wand was carelessly left at your bed side. Stun me and go out the door. Down the stairs on the far left end of the hallway. This building has Anti-Disapparation Jinxes in place. You will need to reach the street to leave."

"Severus," Remus said, arresting Snape's glance again. "Thanks."

"Hurry," Snape said in a scathing voice. He turned around, as though walking through the door.

Remus nodded, grabbing at his wand with his free hand. With a whisper, he undid the bandages, "_Diffindo_."

The bandages fell away, and he sat up, turning his wand on Snape, "_Stupefy_!" he said in a carrying tone. Snape crumpled to the ground, wand not drawn. Remus leapt out of bed, and regretted it immediately. Pain shot through his legs. He may be nearly healed, but he still had some work to go before he was well.

Limping quickly, he stepped over the stunned body of Snape, and opened the door to the hall. No one was there. He hobbled down to the left, hoping with each step that he would make it to the door unnoticed. Remus' leg pain grew, and his arms felt more and more like dead weights, but he trudged on. The door at the end had a sign with a pictogram of steps. Almost there.

"Hey, you!" called a voice behind him.

Remus didn't hesitate. "_Stupefy_!" he cried, launching a spell as he pivoted in place. The man, whoever it had been, crumpled. 'This is getting messier,' Remus thought.

He reached the stair, and was descending when he began to hear running steps on the floor above. He hobbled down faster, nearly tumbling with each half-step he made. The rail supported his weight, and kept him from rolling to the bottom noisily. It occurred to him that he did not know what floor he had come from. Was it a single flight or a dozen? The stairwell walls were angled such that it was difficult to tell.

At the bottom of the stair, just one flight from the start, fortunately, Remus found a door. It was bolted, but he blasted through it with a slash of his wand. He wasn't interested in stealth, now. He ran out the door, ignoring the pain. Remus had come out in an alley. With a turn and a wince against the pain, Remus Disapparated into nothingness.

He reappeared only to stagger both from pain and shock. The home he had sought, the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, had disappeared. Looking around, Remus was suddenly confused. 'Wait,' he thought, 'buildings don't disappear. There's no wreckage, no sign of destruction or removal.'

He staggered forward, moving generally towards the place where he remembered the house. The ground looked different. The hill felt thinner, somehow, than he could recall, but that could just be the impression from the missing house. How...why had McGonagall's family home gone?

Not knowing if anyone would hear him, Remus called out, "Hello! Help me! I'm injured and ..."

His left leg gave out, and he toppled. At the same time his voice failed him, and he barely made a sound as he landed hard on the rocks. Remus lay there for a moment, unable to compose himself enough to rise. Sounds came up around him, and looking up, he realized a circle of fighters had surrounded him with wands drawn. More were scanning the hillside for other intruders.

"I'm alone," he gasped. "Need to see Dumbledore."

"Remus?!" someone cried.

"Yes, it is I," he whispered.

"Carry him inside," came a familiar voice.

"But shouldn't we -?" another came.

"No, just bring him in," the first reprised. "This isn't the place."

"Lift him, on three," came Sirius' voice, clear and simple.

"Remus dear," said Lily, her voice close to his ear, "we need you to shut your eyes for a moment."

He complied. Every bump of every step felt like a hammer to his side, but he bit his lip and bore it quietly. A door opened soon, he could hear it, but did not know where it could have been hidden. The footsteps smoothed, and the sound of them reverberated with the clack of sole on tile. It reminded him of McGonagall's foyer, but how could it still be here?

Something soft met his back. It felt like a couch. Remus sighed. There was a muttering of voices, and he could feel magic. His pain was lessening, but not removed. Any relief was a welcome change. Remus could hear a few people leave and others enter, whispering to each other at a distance. He determined to wait on them.

After a couple minutes, Lily said, more loudly and clearly, "Remus, you can open your eyes."

He found that he could, and it didn't hurt. Remus looked left and right, seeing familiar faces in a ring. Very few of them were smiling. Lily smiled. James and Sirius had tight, withdrawn expressions. Moody and a few of the Aurors were there, but their expressions were often so stony it didn't matter what their mood was. Remus, for his part, managed a soft smile.

"Thank you," he said, leaning up on an elbow. It felt numb, so he remained somewhat upright.

Lily spoke first, as though holding off the comments to come. "It's good to see you, Remus."

"Lily," he answered, suddenly remembering the full circumstances of their last meeting. "I...I'm sorry."

Lily looked down at him, a sad smile playing on her face. Remus realized she was very pregnant. Her child must be due very soon. He couldn't remember, of course. Time had blurred for him, again. A tear caught in his left eye, but he didn't indulge it. Today was more than about Lily Potter and himself. Looking around, he caught James' eye, as well, but James did not look at him for more than a moment.

"Moody," he began, grasping for someone to talk to, "I hear you caught Igor."

Moody grunted affirmatively. "Karkarov arrived at Azkaban yesterday," he said.

Remus nodded. "I'm sorry about Fleinfold. That battle got out of hand."

"And how did that happen, Remus?" James cut in.

Remus looked him straight in the face. "From what I was able to learn, a spy in the Order told the Death Eaters. Someone also leaked to the Ministry what was going on."

James just glared back at him. "It wasn't me, James. I swear it," Remus said forcibly.

"Why should we believe you?" he asked.

"I told Moody what we were going to do," Remus answered. "I wanted to stop them. Do you think I wanted Fleinfold, my friend, to..to..." He stopped, biting his lip again, but, again, not loosing a tear.

"Death Eaters have no friends."

"James!" Lily broke in. "Remus isn't a Death Eater. Dumbledore put him there to spy on them."

"Maybe he got comfortable and wanted to stay," James said.

"Mate," Sirius said, putting a hand on James' shoulder, "at least hear him out."

"Fine," James growled. "How come you came back now? If you're our spy, why not keep it up?"

"They suspect me," Remus said, lowering his head. "Snape told me."

"Oh, Snivellus did, did he?" James snarled. "You two must be real pals now."

"Come off it, James" Remus cried. "He warned me only because he needed me to pass a message to Dumbledore. Otherwise, I am sure he would have relished killing me himself. He still might."

"A message, from Snivellus to Dumbledore?" James asked incredulous. The others looked at him oddly, too.

"That's all he asked," Remus said shrugging. "He wants to meet Dumbledore...alone."

"It's a trap!" half of them uttered as one.

"I think it's a trap, and I'll tell Dumbledore so, but … I'll pass on the message," Remus said. "Snape helped me get out of there before they decided to openly accuse me or kill me."

"And how do you know this isn't just another ploy to get you out?" Sirius asked. "He's confronted you before."

"I had my own suspicions before he said anything."

"I'll pass on the message to Dumbledore," James said, authoritatively. "Tell me the specifics."

"No," Remus said quickly. "Please," he added, "I want to speak to him, myself."

"And you shall, Remus." Everyone turned and saw Dumbledore framed in the doorway. He had that energy around him that could silence a hall full of students or stop an argument in mid-sentence. Remus and all the Order had the utmost respect for him. It was difficult to not respect him.

"Dumbledore," Remus breathed.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I will hear your message, in full, tomorrow morning. Tonight I have things to attend to, and you need to rest. Enjoy the evening with your friends, and see me in the study at dawn."

"Of course," he answered. "It can wait 'til the morning."

Dumbledore departed with a nod.

Dawn arrived, and Remus felt refreshed as he hadn't in years. He was nearly fully healed, but it was more than that. He felt more complete as a person. After Dumbledore had departed, the questions had ceased, and, for a few hours, he had talked with his friends. It was not quite like old times, but familiar enough that Remus felt warmth again.

Now, though, as he sat in the study, waiting on Dumbledore, his thoughts drifted back to the last couple years. Had he made any difference at all? Was Dumbledore's plan for him a complete failure? What would he do, Dumbledore, when he heard the extent of the failure?

Remus had grown tired, so tired of everything. Even worrying about and growing angry at his own failures had taken too much out of him. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was pass on the message, and tell Dumbledore what had happened. Maybe he would get a chance to fight for the Order, like any other member. He may not have felt useful in this war, so far, but he could. It would be a chance to redeem himself.

The room had changed little since he had last sat here speaking with Dumbledore. McGonagall did not redecorate often, it seemed. Remus spent a few moments looking out at the horizon. It was a surprisingly clear morning, the moors beyond her hilltop were bereft of their normal mists. The sun had not yet risen, it hovered very near the cusp of the world, but its light already poured out into the eastern sky.

"It looks like a fine morning awaits us," Dumbledore said, his voice collected and casual.

"The first in sometime," Remus said, softly.

"I hear...you have a message to deliver," Dumbledore said. "We might as well not delay it."

"Severus Snape sent me," Remus began. "He wishes to meet with you at the east end of the Lincolnshire Wolds, on a hill with a view of The Cathedral of the Wolds. He will be there on Tuesday at dusk. He has asked that you meet him alone."

"I see," Dumbledore said, thoughtfully.

"I'm sure it's a trap," Remus said, breaking the momentary silence.

"Thank you for your concern, Remus," Dumbledore replied, smiling. "I believe I can handle myself."

"Yes, of course," Remus said slowly. "Only, there was one other part. It was not in his message, but, he said it related to Lily and James' safety, and I just wanted to make sure -"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, eyes glinting as he cut him off. "I see. Thank you for passing on the message. I will see to it."

A silence fell. Remus felt unusually awkward, something he had never felt around the old Headmaster. Usually, his presence was soothing, reassuring, but today, it felt stressful. Something was troubling the man. Remus felt bad for him, for a moment.

"Now," Dumbledore began, looking over at Remus in earnest now, "we have to decide what to do now that you are done playing spy for the Death Eaters."

"How did you know that?" Remus asked.

"I have my sources."

"I'd like to fight, to help the Order," Remus said, with little hesitation. "I think I can help more there."

"Yes, I see," Dumbledore responded airily. "I have thought over several options, and am trying to decide the most appropriate."

"Don't you need people to fight?" Remus asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Then, what is the problem?" he asked.

"Remus," Dumbledore said, sighing, "I would like you to do something for me."

"Anything!" Remus exclaimed. "That's what I've been saying."

"There have been so many reports of what has happened," Dumbledore said, looking tired, "but only you know the whole of it. Can I see your memories, read your thoughts, to see what has happened?"

"And," Remus said, feeling taken aback, "it doesn't bother you that you taught me how to misdirect someone doing just that?"

"It does," he answered, "but there are certain things I wish to experience for myself."

Remus nodded assent. "What do I need to do?"

"Just sit still, calm your mind, and look at me."

Remus did that, looking into those deep blue eyes, but within a moment, the room seemed to dissolve. He opened his mind as wide as he knew how. All doors hung open, all paths inviting for exploration. Remus followed Dumbledore through his mind. The memories he approached seemed illogical, and chronologically out of order. Remus knew why he did this, but couldn't help feeling a little mistrusted.

Dumbledore finished, and the room reformed around them. The memories of the battle fading from before Remus' eyes. He found himself with tears rolling down his cheeks. Dumbledore's eyes were watery, but he did not cry.

"I'm sorry I put you through this, Remus," Dumbledore said, standing. He began to pace. "It was unfair, and pushed you into places you never wanted to go. You had to do things that were abhorrent to you. You will have regrets, as I have. I do not know if you can forgive me for it."

Remus could think of no response to this, so he remained silent. His head felt suddenly heavy, as if he had been going through a round of exams at Hogwarts again. The world swam a little, and then reformed in front of him. He wasn't fully recovered, he knew that, but he didn't want to collapse in front of Dumbledore.

"Your life has been hard, far harder than any ought to be. Through it all, though, you have kept true to yourself, more than you can see now. You will understand in time. I hope, in time, you will understand and forgive me, for everything."

"I...Dumbledore, I mean, there's nothing to forgive," Remus sputtered. "I did what I did for the cause. It's all in the past."

"No," Dumbledore said, sadly. "No it isn't."

"What?" Remus asked, turning. Dumbledore had pointed his wand and muttered something. Then, Remus knew no more.


	29. Chapter 29: Do Monsters Cry?

"Memories are the latent trappings of experience. In a single memory, we capture both event and meaning, all emotion and sensations. They grow and change with us, as our understanding of them grows and changes. We can hide them, or from them, but they are forever a part of us. They shape our futures as much as the events themselves have shaped our pasts.

"Like a beaded string, each builds upon the memory before it, emphasizing and strengthening our assurance of who and what we are. Many have found that a sudden smell or familiar view can stimulate a resurgence of a memory, even one long hidden."

"Isn't it amazing?" Julius exclaimed. "I found these old recordings in a closet of the archives, a closet of all places!"

"Yes," Iggy said, dismissively. "You'll find the oddest things back there."

"But, man," Julius asked, incredulous, "do you realize who that is?"

"Some old scoffer, I'd guess," Iggy answered, snickering. Another man, across the table, laughed aloud.

"It is none other than **The** Charles Tithbom!" Julius continued, ignoring the others.

When neither expressed their astonishment, Julius went on, "He's only the leading Legilimency authority of the last century! He investigated further into the reaches of memory and the mind than anyone."

"Oh," Iggy said, sarcastic smile waxing on his lips, "of course. How silly of me."

Their companion did not share in this bit of amusement. He had gone a little quiet, as though trying to remember something. After a moment, he brushed it off, and smiled serenely. It was a beautiful day.

The sea air swept through the streets accompanied by the early Monday morning sun. The cobbled streets hadn't been changed in over a hundred years. Only pedestrians passed through the Wizard town. The streets were thin, but people walked about with ease. Pairs of runners slipped past them, dashing along over the bumpy street floor. The three of them sat at a table of a cafe called Le Rêve Magique.

"Well," Julius said, haughtily, "I'm sure there are others who will understand the importance of this discovery."

"I'm sure they will, Julius," Remus said, chuckling. "But our research is a bit different."

"Yes, yes," Julius said. "I just assumed that with the full moon so far off yet, you'd find some other area of study more interesting."

"We do have a lot to do before then," Iggy retorted.

"Professor Damocles," Remus began.

"Please, Remus, for the last time, just call me Iggy. Everyone else does."

Remus laughed. "Alright, alright."

He was about to begin talking when a wizard of about twenty-five ran off the street and into the cafe. He was babbling something hysterically, but all the customers ignored him. Mad wizards walking about and rambling were not unusual in this town. At the edge, a Wizarding Asylum had housed wizards for hundreds of years in various states of mental illness. Other research disciplines, such as Julius' and Iggy's had taken root alongside.

His cries grew louder, though, and more coherent. It interrupted conversations. Remus thought he distinctly heard, "It's over! You-Know-Who is dead!"

"Over?" he whispered. His head hurt. "What does that mean?"

His companions heard part of what the man was rambling. They exchanged darkly significant looks. Julius stood up. "I suppose someone should deliver this patient back to the asylum. I need to visit Monsieur Martel, in any case."

He moved over to where the man was shouting the news at a young couple in a booth. "Rejoice! We are no longer in danger! The Wizarding World is safe! He killed so many."

"Come with me, sir," Julius said, smiling forcibly.

"But," the man said, looking a little confused. "I just came to tell you all the news! The Dark Wizard is no more!"

"Yes, and that is great news," Julius said soothingly. "Can you step outside with me for a moment? Please?" he added with some earnestness.

"Oh, fine then," the man said. As he went outside, though, he said in a carrying voice, "It is a shame about the Potters, though."

"Yes, I'm sure it is," Julius said.

When they had gone out of doors and down a block or so, Remus could see the pair carrying on a heated conversation. His mind, however, was not with them, nor with the crepe and tea before him. He did not seem to see Iggy in front of him trying to make small talk. His thoughts were far away, straining against something he could neither see nor touch.

Iggy realized what was happening. "Oh goodness!" he cried as he watched Remus' face contort with strained effort. Iggy watched in shock as Remus sat twitching in front of him. He knew, though, that he would not need a Healer, this was always an eventuality. Iggy felt sad, though, knowing what this would mean. Remus had been a great patient, a great friend.

Remus had met the barrier. The names 'the Potters' and the references to 'You-Know-Who' had stimulated something deep within his mind. It was as though an ignition had turned and an engine deep in his mind had caught. He couldn't quite make out what it was trying to tell him. That was when he knew the wall. It was well constructed, but not impenetrable, as though the builder had constructed it to crumble when it was discovered. After a moment, he remembered that he knew Occlumency well, and he put it to work. The wall began to crumble at the force.

Like dam waters long withheld, a flood of thoughts, memories, and emotion poured over. The serenity of the past year's time evaporated. The turgid waters of remembrance struck him, and he was consumed. At this moment, he fell out of his chair, striking his arm against the foot of another table. The pain burned the truth of this reality into his mind. It was then that he saw everything.

The world swirled. The Order, his days of spying, the Death Eaters, his friends, the deaths, and all the pain around it suddenly became clear. One more thing was added to the mix, 'It's a shame about the Potters' echoed in his mind with a force to mute the other thoughts. They fell silent in subdued pain, as their terrible reports seemed as nothing next to this new thought. His friends, dead? Who else had died? Whom could he have saved?

Confusion and pain were rapidly replaced with anger. "Dumbledore!" he heard himself shout with inhuman force. He realized his voice echoed especially in the quiet around him. A dozen or more people had surrounded him, Julius, the newcomer, and Iggy foremost among them. He glared around at them, pulling back out of his mind enough for this moment.

"Why?" he asked no one aloud.

Iggy tried to console him, "He...he never said, mate."

"What did he tell you?" Remus asked, his voice a growl.

"He said he needed to hide you, and that you would love to help with my research, and...and not to let you hear about the war, that it would upset you."

"We never thought he had blocked the memories, though," Julius added. "We just tried to keep you in the dark about it, for your sake."

"I figured it out," Iggy admitted, his face long and drawn. "You never said anything about the war or your past, not even in passing. I just...I didn't know what it was that he had had to hide, but if he had gone to such lengths, it must have been too much."

Remus' face grew darker. "I want my wand."

"What are you going to-"

"I want my wand back, _Professor_ Damocles," Remus said, eyes flashing.

"Yeah, sure," Iggy said. "It's in the lab, I'll get it for you." He looked imploringly at Julius.

"While he's getting it," Julius said, sounding nervous, "Just sit here and have your tea."

He offered a hand to Remus, but Remus refused it, standing on his own. Ignoring the tea, he bore down on the man who had entered with the news. "What did you hear? What happened? Tell me everything!"

The man fell back in fear, jostling a table and then catching himself on it. His eyes were wide and staring at Remus. Julius stepped between them. "Remus, sit down," he said, voice stronger, more commanding. When Remus looked like he would say something, he added, "Let him have a moment. He is bringing you news, after all."

Reluctantly, Remus assented, sitting on the edge of the chair, and facing the man. Julius pulled Iggy's chair out for the man, and resumed his own seat at the table. Remus could feel that the interest of the other patrons had waned. They had all resumed their conversations, only glancing his way occasionally. Perhaps they were waiting for another outburst.

"I was in the village owlery," he said, looking between the two, "about to send a letter to my Aunt in Toulouse, when this young girl gasped. She had just opened a letter and read it to us. There was some bit about her boyfriend in England loving her and such rubbish, but the part that mattered was about the war. Hearing the news, that I'll never forget."

He had the look of a man who would soon embellish this tell and was in the process of testing it out on a few strangers. Remus saw this, but ignored it. He wanted the details. The truth mattered.

"What did it say?" Julius asked kindly.

"I made a copy of it, so that I would remember. It was so remarkable as news, you know!" the man said, pulling out a slip of paper to read. "It said:"

_Oh, dearest, the greatest news today, and so sad. Yet, greater mostly. He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named is gone! I am so happy I could almost write his name to you, but I won't. Shocking, I know! They're saying he killed the Potters. They were such a kind pair, you know. I saw James at times in the Ministry. _

_There is such a mystery about it, though! They don't know how he was defeated. Yet there he was, when the Ministry came to investigate the house. It exploded, you know? Exploded! But there, and this is all part of the mystery of the thing, there in the rubble was one still alive! Who do you think it was? No, but you would never guess! The child, James and Lily's, Harry. He lives! _

_Such miraculous and mysterious goings on are in these tidings that I know you will doubt me of playing you a falsehood. I assure you, it is not so. Emily Bagkirk, your old dear cousin, spoke with Cornelius Fudge just after he left the scene, and this is all true! Everyone is in a right state about it. I will send you more when we know all the news. It is so remarkable, indeed!_

"Then he continues on for a paragraph or two more on how pretty she is in his recollection. Such rubbish, but there it is."

"Harry," Remus breathed, feeling the taste of the word in his mouth. He had never heard the child's name, never congratulated the parents. He hadn't been there. Dumbledore had seen to that. Anger seethed beneath the surface, threatening to overtake him again. The man was saying more, but Remus' only thought was getting his wand back and returning to England at once. He had been away for far too long.

Iggy arrived before long, looking scared, but holding two wands in his hand. Remus saw his own wand, so long absent from his grasp. Here he hadn't needed it, here he had surrendered it as part of the study. For the last six months, the study had involved reducing his exposure to ambient magic. If he did not use magic, and was not directly around it actively, would this inhibit or improve the strength of the potion they were developing?

This was one of the several studies that he had participated in. Despite his new knowledge of the past, Remus was glad he could have helped. Volunteers from the werewolf society were difficult to come by. Many would rather hide their condition, others abhorred any attempt to stop the transformation. These were a difficult bunch for the Ministry. Here too, he had met wizards and werewolves from all over the world. The premier Healers in the area came to study the methods of Damocles and his team. Some stayed on, others took home some new thoughts and techniques.

Remus had no anger to spare for these two for their part in the deception. Even Damocles, who admitted he had realized something was wrong, did not deserve even a small share of the blame. Dumbledore had much to atone for. Remus would see that he did.

Remus stood and held held out his hand to Ignatius Damocles, and said, "Thank you for retrieving my wand."

"Are you, are you going to go, then?" Iggy asked, holding out the wand part of the way.

"Yes," Remus said, "I have missed much, too much."

"Will you come back?" Julius asked.

"I might," Remus answered. He took his wand from Ignatius. "Thank you for your kindness, both of you. I … have to go, though. There are things I have to do."

He shook hands with both of them and gave them a sad smile. It took all of his will to hold back his emotions. It would become too much in a moment. He stepped away from them and concentrated hard with his eyes closed a moment.

Ministry official guidelines advise Apparition to distances of no more than three hundred seventy-five kilometers in a hop, with a thirty minute delay between hops of the maximum distance. From Southern France, it was nearly 1200 kilometers to London. He would have to delay for an hour or more, if he followed the rules. Remus didn't have time for that.

With a point in mind, a spot he had spent much time admiring as a child, Remus spun into darkness. The point seemed a pinprick of light in the great distance. His chest was compressed, as always in Apparition, but he held on. Apparition over a long distance was not as swift as short hops. It took time. The compression worsened as the seconds ticked away.

Remus' muscles began to twitch. He mentally struggled against the impulse to leap out of the Apparition, to spare his lungs, to allow himself to breathe. Just a little further. The pinprick had grown to the size of a softball. Everything burned, and he felt a sudden lethargy. The light began to shift upward, as he descended out of the stream. 'No!' his mind screamed, dragging himself back into the midst of it. The pain increased tenfold. The light was larger, nearly there.

He hit the ground, and staggered to his knees. Air flooded his lungs suddenly, and he gasped. He felt the blood rushing suddenly to his head. Dizzy, he fell onto his side and coughed, painfully. Closing his eyes, he grabbed his head with his hands and held it, hoping to stop the spinning feeling. After a moment, it subsided, but he couldn't move. Everything ached, and he felt sick.

When he lay there for some time, he began to feel the world around him. His side was hugging up against the rough cobblestone ground but the light salty, sea air licked at him from above. He chanced opening his eyes. There was a long path before him, cobbled and winding. It ran along the edge of The English Channel. He had Apparated over the height of France in a few seconds. However, he did not think his body could stand another immediate attempt. He would be stuck in France if he couldn't come up with another way to proceed.

"Hé! Etes-vous bien?" someone called out.

Remus muttered, "I'm okay."

"Oh, un Anglais," the man said, coming up on him.

Remus stuck his wand into his pant pocket while rolling onto his knees. He had no idea if this was a magical or Muggle person. How did one even say Muggle in French? Remus just needed somewhere to rest up and think for a few.

Remus could see him better now. He was an old man, dressed simply, and with a pleasant face. He had the skin of a lifetime laborer, gnarled with excessive sun and wrinkled with age. The man gave him a hand up, saying in simple English, "I am Jacques. You good?"

"Yes, thanks," Remus said. "Just tired."

"You need rest?" Jacques asked. He pointed at a cabin along the beach.

Remus shook his head. "I have a long way to go," he said, pointing down the path. Really, he only wanted to be alone, for now. The old man shrugged and began walking back towards the hut. Remus turned his back and walked his own way. A rest would be good, but he had no time. His blood was still hot. He needed to see Dumbledore...to...to what? Demand his time back? He had lost that, and two of his friends.

Just moments ago, he had pictured himself appearing before Dumbledore, angry and condemning of the old man. Now, all he wanted to do was sag into himself in misery. The road before him elongated, winding through longer stretches of country than before. Remus didn't try to move too quickly, yet. He had to think. Maybe Dumbledore would have a reasonable story, a good reason. He was always so thoughtful and had a long strategy worked out.

Remus calmed, a little. He wasn't happy. Far from it. He could breathe, now, and the walking had brought down his anger. Some of that familiar coarseness, the resistance to pain, clicked into place. Numbness followed. He hadn't taken time to think. Lily and James Potter, two of his best friends, were dead. Who else had died? It had been so long. These were the deaths of the day. How could he be sure they weren't the last of many?

Determined to find out, and soon, Remus looked around. All was empty and quiet. He had passed far out of sight of the old man's hut. Grabbing a small rock from the side of the path, he pulled out his wand, concentrated, and said, "_Portus_."

A calmer mind had reminded him of a much easier method of travel. Portkeys had unlimited range around the world if created properly. Remus had only one place he wanted to be. In a moment, he would arrive. Then, he would learn the truth.

Clutching the Portkey rock, he counted down, "Five...four...three...two...one." On one, he felt that sudden tug and was spinning through a vortex of light. He touched down immediately on an old hill. It felt almost like yesterday he had been here last. Remus could see the house, this time, though. Had the protection been lifted already?

He tossed the rock aside, and walked up the slope. No one greeted him or came out to stop his entry. It was eerie, like death had come to this place, too. 'Come to think of it,' Remus noted, 'they never said where it happened. Where were they when He...?' He shook his head. They could not have been here. The letter had spoken of an explosion. Nothing here looked so damaged.

Remus opened the door and stepped into the foyer. It, too, was deserted. He heard nothing, no sounds of conversation, no steps upon the tile. Desperation began to set in. 'Where is everyone?' He ran from room-to-room. No one was on the ground floor. When he reached the office, the meeting place where he had met Dumbledore twice now, he found nothing. The home was truly deserted.

Frustrated, Remus ran out of the house, preparing to Disapparate, somewhere. Perhaps he could learn something at the Ministry. 'No,' he thought, 'I'm probably still wanted.' Still, as he did not know where anyone could be, perhaps a public place wouldn't be too much trouble. You could never tell, especially after all the time that had passed. Maybe headquarters had moved.

"Where are you running so quickly, Lupin?"

Remus stopped dead. That voice, it couldn't be. He turned, and there he was, Severus Snape, in the flesh. "How...Why?"

"Why am I here?" Snape asked for him, sneering. "I suppose Dumbledore found a better spy than you could ever prove. Today, I was checking in at HQ. A few people still stop by to leave reports for Dumbledore. Might be more after today's events."

"Today?" Remus asked. "You mean after the Potters...?"

"No, no," Snape said, frowning. "That is yesterday's news."

Remus shook his head. He had thought he was arriving quickly, but he had already come a day late. News had traveled slowly to that sleepy town in southern France. What else had happened?

"You haven't heard?" Snape asked, looking a little brighter. "Let's just say, your little gang from Hogwarts isn't doing so well."

"What?" Remus asked. He ran to within a foot of Snape, glaring at him hard. "What did you mean by that? Tell me!"

"Tut tut," Snape said, savoring the control he had. "Is that a way to ask for news? I know you're a beast, but surely you've learned a few manners over the years."

Snape's snub barely registered. Remus only wanted to learn what had happened. He stepped back, restraining himself. "Fine," he said, in a calmer voice. With an effort he added, "Please, tell me what happened."

The old familiar smirk appeared on Snape's face. "Turns out that your old friend Sirius - a friend's friend, I'm sure - happened to be a traitor for the Death Eaters. He turned over the Potter's location to the Dark Lord, and poof, they died."

"No!" Remus cried. "He couldn't, he wouldn't! I don't believe-"

"Believe it," Snape snapped, holding his own temper in check. "Dumbledore says the Potters made Sirius the secret keeper for their whereabouts. Your other little ratty friend, Peter, caught up with him and confronted him. Great friend that he is, Sirius blew him up along with twelve Muggles on the street, in front of many witnesses."

"No...no..." Remus moaned, his hand shaking.

"Oh," Snape said, "but I haven't gotten to the best part. Sirius, your old mate, when taken in by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, what do you suppose he said?"

"What?"

"Nothing whatsoever," Snape said, voice icily cold, "he laughed. He laughed like a madman, enjoying the pain he had caused, the deaths he had wrought."

"No," Remus whispered. "No..."

He ran, leaving Snape where he stood. Remus would have felt more comfortable if he had heard laughter behind him. That, at least, would have left him some shred of hope that Snape had lied, had decided to play a joke on him. The silence that followed his retreat felt so final, so damning. At the safe border, a dozen yards from the door, Remus turned in place.

Remus appeared before the gate. An empty expanse of the grounds lay before him. It was a weekday at noon, everyone would be in the Great Hall. As though drawn forward by a pair of strings, Remus crossed the old familiar grounds. The lakeside, where so many sweet afternoons had passed, long ago. The Whomping Willow, remaining symbol of his time at Hogwarts. It was still a blight and dangerous monster, like himself.

His anger had exploded in his gut. He felt drawn by its force, in toward the man who had sent him away. All of these things, couldn't they have been prevented? Couldn't he have helped? Why had this been done to him? Everyone else had remained and fought. Maybe many more had died, but they lived or died as heroes. What was he, a child, to be sent away when the fight became too hard?

Was it because he was a werewolf? Did his escape from the Ministry attract too much negative attention? Maybe Dumbledore didn't want to associate the Order with such a creature. The only place he had felt true acceptance, except with his friends – and he did not want to think of them now – was with the researchers in France. They had treated him like an equal. The Order and the Death Eaters had both treated him like an outsider. The Ministry had treated him like a criminal and an outsider. At school, he had his friends, but most others avoided him. It wasn't because of what he was, there; they must not have liked something about him or his friends.

He crossed the Entrance Hall, not seeing if anyone was there. All he saw was the door before him. It loomed, large and heavier than he had ever thought. It gave at his touch, though, as always. Hundreds of students appeared before him, happily chatting and laughing, their cares lightened, in fact, removed, with the death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Remus knew this, picturing the party they must have had in the Gryffindor Tower the night before. The celebrations there, and all over Britain, so joyous and happy. It made him sick and he hated them for the easy price of happiness and peace.

They had only lost names, a few more or less than any other time during war. Names are meaningless next to faces and memories. Remus had lost three, no four of his greatest friends in the last day. He had lost them forever. Worst of all, he had never been able to help, he never even said goodbye. That last evening, the one before he and Dumbledore had spoken that fateful morning, that was it. That was their farewell, though they had not known it. Three dead, one imprisoned. Why had of this all fallen on him?

A few people had noticed him, including one or two teachers, but no one had spared him more than a casual glance yet. He looked past the students, to the center of the Head table. There, gold-rimmed glasses shining over a flowing beard of white. There as calm as could be, sat the man.

"DUMBLEDORE!" Remus felt his lips utter. Only the utterance sounded more like a barbaric cry than even a shout. The name echoed in the magnificent hall and ended with a deafening silence. Every head turned as one. The staff at the Head table stood, looking alarmed. Dumbledore, alone, remained seated among them. He looked across the space between Remus and himself, his hands arched in front of him, a contemplative look on his face.

Remus realized that the numbers were far too great against him. In physical strength alone, a handful of the older students could tackle him. Why had he barged in like this? What could he hope to achieve? Just as he began to feel completely foolish, Dumbledore stood. With a gesture down the row of professors, he had them sit.

"Excuse us, everyone," he said, his voice, though a whisper resounding easily across the hall in a calming, casual way. His voice couldn't have sounded more different from what Remus' had sounded like a moment before. "I believe Mr. Lupin needs a word with me."

A couple professors moved to stand, but he waved them down, cheerfully. Everyone watched him cross the hall, walking solemnly towards Remus. Remus merely scowled and stepped out into the Entrance Hall. In the moment or two he had, waiting for Dumbledore to open the door and join him, Remus saw that he was alone there. No one had dawdled in the halls. Everyone was beyond those doors.

Remus stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall. It was the meeting point of the stairs to the upper parts of the castle with the door to the Great Hall and the foremost door to the castle. He was at a pivot point, too, in his mind. What did it matter, anyway? Whatever Dumbledore might say, whatever explanation, it would not undo the past. Hurting Dumbledore could hardly help, either, as much as he felt the urge to do so.

Dumbledore opened the door. He shut it quietly behind him, and Remus saw the appearance and disappearance of students' heads craning to get a glimpse of them. Muttering something with his wand at the door, Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.

"There," he said, pleased, "no one should hear us."

An awkward pause fell. Remus felt that he should begin, but did not know where to start. Dumbledore stood, observing him fairly. He had a sad, comforting expression on his face that made Remus' gall rise again. Dumbledore meant to be a comforter, he, he who had done this. Could this be?

"Remus," Dumbledore said, softly in introduction.

"How could you?" Remus asked, bitterness thick upon his tongue. He could not muster the strength he had thought he would have, the strength to berate. From the look on Dumbledore's face, Remus saw that he had done worse than an attack, worse than any yelling. He had undone Dumbledore's composure with a question. "How could you have done this to me?" He repeated in the silence.

"I..."

"They were my friends!" Remus cried, not in anger but in pain. "My only friends..."

"That's not true, Remus," Dumbledore said, holding out his hand as though to put it on Remus' shoulder. Remus stood yards away, so this felt like nothing more than an empty gesture to him, a gesture across space and time.

"They were," Remus said darkly. "No one else accepted me so easily, despite it all. Even James, with all our problems, still cared. He never showed concern like Lily, not the same way, but he felt it." Remus had a vision of James catching him running headlong towards the burning tower and leaping, with no thought or worry, at the chance of helping him make a difference. Remus' heart burned.

"They, each of the four, James, Sirius, Peter, and...Lily, they were all I had to keep me going," he whispered. He saw them all, gathered at the wedding. He saw them each in their days as children at school, in this very Hall, at times, enjoying the freedom of youth, the beauty in life. Remus felt his face grow hot. "How could you...?"

"Remus, I know this must be hard on you," Dumbledore said, softly, voice closer than before. He had taken a few steps towards Remus.

"What do you know?" Remus exclaimed. "You send people on missions for the cause! People live and die, and you send them to it. If they don't come back, you send someone else."

"Oh, I know, Dumbledore," he said, scathingly, cutting off the reply, "you're doing this for us. You wanted to make the world safe again. Well, so did I! I wanted to fight. I would have fought and died on one of your missions, had you asked. But this! Casting me aside, sending me away like a worthless child. What could be gained in it?

"I went on your mission. I infiltrated the Death Eaters and tried to help. I failed, and you send me away. That is what you do with failures, you toss them aside. As I was worthless in this matter, surely I would only fail you in some other, right? Right? Was I not strong enough for you? Was I a danger? Was I a monster in your pristine, spotless eyes?

"I was a monster when I arrived at your school. You let me in out of the goodness of your heart, as a charity case. Look! Dumbledore the Great has looked down with his goodness upon this stricken thing and given it a chance! How wonderful he must be! With his same greatness, he directs the effort against Voldemort and his Death Eaters! He knows everything that should happen, he has the insight. Trust him, it's for the greater good!"

Remus seemed to have struck a nerve. Dumbledore visibly winced. He felt a sick sense of enjoyment from seeing this pain in the Headmaster. That turned into a bitter distaste in a moment. His body was shaking from the effort. A sudden wariness hit him, a part of him that didn't want to go on. "Why?" was all he could manage to utter.

"Remus," Dumbledore said. Remus looked up abruptly on hearing his voice. This was not the strong, willful voice he had always known, the power that often resonated in such a reassuring fashion had gone. Here was a frail, tired, scared old man. Remus had thrown everything he could in his face.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he said softly. "I have been most unjust to you. I have something to tell you that I have not told to another soul."

Remus looked at him, hopeful in his heart, but doubtful in his mind. Could he have had cause for anything that would justify what was done?

"I trusted you as much as anyone in the Order, more than many, Remus," Dumbledore said, a soft smile on his lips. "I had seen you grow up under adversity. You faced pain and suffering in your young adult years such as no other student in Hogwarts history. You bore this pain, and more continually, without bowing to it. You did not crumble as so many would have.

"More remarkably, even, you kept yourself, despite it. Always, you remained Remus, Gryffindor at heart. I saw your mind, both with the Occlumency lessons, and that day more recently. The Occlumency lessons were a final test. I wanted to know your heart in all that had happened. Despite the pain from all sides, especially that the Ministry had callously created, you held fast to yourself. I had hoped only you could keep yourself while burying yourself into the deeps of the Death Eaters."

Remus looked up at him meaningfully. "No," Dumbledore said, "you did not crumble the Death Eater organization from the inside. I had never imagined it would be so simple. From your actions and memories, over a dozen Death Eaters were captured and passed into the Ministry's custody. You may think your actions were in vain, but let me tell you, no one Order member has brought about the capture of so many in such a short time frame."

Dumbledore beamed at him, but Remus remained stony-faced. Dumbledore went on, "Still, your concern is with our last meeting. I do regret it. I have had few duties that were more repellent. I discovered something, though, when I scanned your memories, that terrified me."

Remus looked alarmed, searching his memory for something that would have scared the Headmaster so much. "It was not," Dumbledore said, "something you had done, rest assured."

"It was Him. Voldemort had left a part of himself within your mind, the day he met you. He is the most powerful Legilimens of our age. He did not penetrate your defenses, but he is skilled enough to see when he is being blocked by an inexperienced Occlumens. I postulate, and, mind you, this is only my assumption, that he wanted to keep a closer eye on you.

"I was never sure there was a leak on our end. I could not conceive of it at the time, but somehow Voldemort knew about the assassination prevention mission. As I had bolstered our force, so did he. You saw the result of it."

"But Dumbledore," Remus broke in, "if Sirius..." He could not finish the sentence. It pained him too much to think of it.

"Sirius' later actions aside," Dumbledore said, "I cannot place the blame for this on him. Neither he, nor any of your friends were involved in this matter. The four of them were embroiled in a mess in Wales, at the time. This was intentional on my part. I did not want to make them fight you."

"But then," Remus asked, feeling a terror wash over him. "If you saw that Voldemort had...?"

"Why didn't I extract him, and free you from it?" Dumbledore asked for him. "It was dangerous, Remus. In the tussle to free your mind, we might have killed you. In hiding your memories, I protected all of us from his later perusal, and made your mind worthless to him by sending you far away. In France, doing something of great value for the world, I had hoped you would be safe from him until he had, at least forgotten about you."

Remus saw the reason in it, and felt cold shame begin to fill him. He had exploded at this man for things he did not fully understand. He had vented an anger, unkindly, on a man with his best interest in mind.

"Sir," he asked, addressing Dumbledore with a calmer voice, "is Sirius really a traitor?"

Dumbledore looked dark for a moment, answering simply. "I wish I could tell you he had no part in it. I cannot see how he could not."

"Why not?" Remus asked.

"Because, he was the only person who could have betrayed them."

Remus felt the silence fall heavily upon him. "How, sir?"

"He was their Secret Keeper. He was the guardian of their location," Dumbledore said, voice almost harsh with bitterness. "Only he could tell someone their location."

"Why did they need guarding?" Remus asked, suddenly aware of the oddity in it. "They were great fighters, and had as much to lose as anyone."

"Voldemort had singled them out for death," the Headmaster answered. "He made his plans known, and we took every precaution we could. With their son new son, Harry, the two of them went into hiding, as much as you did, Remus."

"And Harry?"

"I have delivered him to his Aunt and Uncle to raise," Dumbledore said, sadly. "They can care for him better than anyone, I fear."

A thought occurred to him. "Was this what Snape wanted to meet you for? Is he in the Order?"

"Severus Snape did indeed tell me the intentions of his old master," Dumbledore said. "He is in the Order, as a spy against the Death Eaters."

"And how can you trust him?" Remus asked, suspicious.

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore said with finality, "as I have my reasons to trust all of you."

Remus reflected on this, and it did not give him comfort. After all, Dumbledore had trusted Sirius, too. They had all trusted Sirius. The thought of Sirius betraying them, the renewed thoughts of his friends' deaths, and the sudden emptiness within, the loss of a constant fire of anger over the last several hours struck him then.

He cried, tears pouring freely down his face, and his shoulders heaved. Remus cried as he had been unable to do for years. Dumbledore did not stop him, but put a comforting arm on his shoulder. Remus stopped only when the door clanged open, and students began to walk past them, some looking disappointed that there was nothing more to see.

"And, Remus," Dumbledore said, leaving his hand lightly on Remus' shoulder. "You never were a monster. If you need proof of it, you have just given it. Could a monster cry so over the death of his friends? Would a monster have felt love and friendship so deeply as you have?"

Remus watched the passing crowd, the flow of friends chatting, the joy of youth. A soft ball of warmth grew in the center of his sadness. 'No,' he answered to himself. 'No.'


End file.
